


Champions

by ChannelTheFlannel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abandoned Fic, Dark, Incomplete, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Order of Phoenix, Plot, Plot Twists, Plotty, Politics, Rise of Voldemort, Some Romance, Torture, Unfinished, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 08:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 53,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5199857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChannelTheFlannel/pseuds/ChannelTheFlannel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 2 of Two Can Play For Hogwarts</p><p>You will want to read this if you are masochistic and want to plough through tens of thousands of words of detailed, complicated, stringy plot. With no actual ending.</p><p>I put so much work into this I don't have the heart to orphan it. It's well written and wonderful in parts (in my opinion) but I just can't imagine ever tying it together neatly. I love the characters I've made here (especially Lucius), but it just won't go anywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

Summer came quickly after the Final Task. Viktor won, of course, and Bulgaria left with a smug air to them, masking the fear they most likely all felt. 

After all, their Champion was not singing songs of victory, but rather attesting to the return of the Dark Lord. 

Exams had been cancelled, and the real Moody had gone home. Cedric's wounds were healed, and many condolences were given. 

Now, he was at the train station, where his family waited to take him home. 

The Dursleys waited for Harry, a hideous bunch. Cedric was remiss that he couldn't take Harry home with him, not yet; Dumbledore insisted that he stay with the dreaded muggles for at least a few weeks. 

Cedric dropped his trunk and waved off his parents, approaching Harry tentatively. He gave him a quick hug, and Harry gently pushed him away. 

"Watch it. I don't think they'd be happy to see _us_." Harry whispered. 

Cedric winced. "They really are terrible. Aren't they? You're already acting stiff."

Harry shrugged, glancing over at the impatient "family" awaiting him. "It's only a few weeks, Ced. Then I can be with you."

"And rightly so, in proper wizariding company." Cedric's mother sniffed from behind him. "Do take care, Harry." She insisted. 

"I will!" Harry assured her. He exhaled deeply, and clapped Cedric on the shoulder. "I will." He repeated. 

"You better," Cedric shoved him. "Three weeks, maximum. Then I'm coming to get you. And write me!" 

Harry laughed, already drifting off. "You write me, too!" He shouted over his shoulder. 

Cedric watched in dismay as his champion shrunk in the presence of the ugly muggles. He waved a tentative goodbye, and then Harry was being dragged off by the ear and into the fray. 

"No, not three weeks. Two. Or one." Cedric whispered. 

His father materialized next to him. "Miss him already, do you?" He asked quietly. "Well, come on. We better get going. You can't wait here for him." He grasped Cedric by the elbow, and apostated him back to their home, his mother close in tow. 

Atop the hill, he could see the Weasley's Burrow towering in the distance. He thought Harry might like being so close to them. He decided he might even work on befriending them, or at least Ron, so it would be less awkward for him. 

Then, he joined his family and entered his home for the first time since before he was a Champion. 

_So much has changed._

* * *

 It wasn't long after he had gotten home that Ron saw Cedric Diggory again. Two days, to be exact. Couldn't he get a break? He just wanted to stay in bed, eat, and maybe ride his broom a bit. Not talk to his best mate's boyfriend. 

The Hufflepuff showed up on his doorstep, carrying a tray of small pies with green filling. 

"What do you want?" Ron demanded. "We have enough food." He grumbled, crossing his arms. 

"I wanted to say hello. Been feeling a bit lonely." Cedric told him, lifting the tray a little. "Mum likes to bake. May I come in?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Fine. But I'm not Harry, you know." He snapped, opening the door and beckoning Cedric inside. 

"I'm fully aware." Cedric snorted. "You're not my type, don't worry."

Unsure wether or not to be offended, Ron led him into the sitting room. "Good to know?" He asked hesitantly, taking the tray and setting it on the table. "What are these, anyway?"

"Green pumpkin pies." Cedric replied. "Mum grows the pumpkins in the garden. Special family breed." He explained. 

"Mmmph." Ron muttered, shoving one into his mouth. They weren't bad--sweet from the pumpkin, savory from the herbs. "Tell your mum they're great."

Cedric grinned. "I will. Where's the rest of the family?"

"Up here!" Two voices called, and then Ron's terrible twin brothers apparated into the room. "What a surprise," they both intoned, regarding the Hufflepuff. 

"Fred. George." Cedric nodded. "Pie?" He asked them. 

"No thanks," Fred said. 

"But we've plenty of things for you to try, if you're interested!" George added, though he gave in and took a pie. So, naturally, Fred did, too. 

"Always wondered about those green pumpkins," George muttered, taking another one. 

"Do you know if they've any magical properties, Diggory?" Fred inquired. 

Ron rolled his eyes, sitting down in hopes of ignoring his brothers. They were coming up on their last year at Hogwarts, and when they weren't apparating, they were babbling about idead for pranks. They had mentioned opening up a shop, but Ron didn't think it was plausible. They didn't have the funds, especially with Bagman disappeared and all. 

"Actually, yes," Cedric told them. "Mum always said they were good for something, but I forgot."

"Pity," the twins sighed. "Let us know when you remember." They winked and separated gods-know-where. 

"Chess, Diggory?" Ron asked. "Or perhaps a bit of Quidditch?" 

"Chess will be fine for now, thanks," Cedric told him, sitting down as Ron set up the chess board. 

"Who've you got there, Ronald?" His mothers voice called from the kitchen. "It's not Harry, is it?" 

"No, mum!" Ron shouted. "Just Cedric Diggory." He placed the final piece on the table. 

"Hullo!" Cedric called, and Molly Weasley appeared in the doorframe. 

"Oh, lovely to see you! I've seen you in the papers with Harry." She hummed, walking over to meet Cedric. He stood, and she enveloped him in a hug. He grunted. 

"Any friend of Harry's is a friend of ours. Right, Ron?"

"Right." Ron replied dryly, watching as Cedric wriggled his way free of the Wealsey matriarch's grasp. 

"That's the best response I've been given yet." Cedric commented. "Normally people hate me when they know about me and Harry."

She laughed. "Nonsense! Ron says you make Harry very happy."

"Really?" Cedric asked, rounding on Ron. 

Ron flushed red. "I may have mentioned it."

_But that doesn't mean I like you_. 

Cedric beamed. "You're a brilliant family. I can see why Harry loves you all so." He paused happily for a moment, probably thinking about Harry. _The sop._

"Speaking of which," he continued at last, "Harry will be coming to stay with me in a few weeks, so I thought we might become better acquainted."

Ron knew this, of course, and he was slightly irked that Harry wanted to stay with Diggory and not him. He would demand a compromise.

But his mother was delighted, and that was it. That was the terrible moment that Cedric Diggory became part of Ron's home life, too. 

* * *

 Viktor was back home in Bulgaria. It was an especially cold summer, and since returning from Hogwarts, he had done little else but practice Quidditch and write letters to Hermione. She usually answered timely, but it had been three days since she had last written.

He knew she was home now, with her muggle parents. It was clear she loved them, but he didn't quite understand. What did she call them--dentists? Boring.

He felt little of that affection towards his own parents. And they were plenty exciting people--his father was a politician and his mother designed broomsticks. She was half the reason he was such a good Quidditch player, so he had to thank her for that.

His father, on the other hand, spoke of little more than power and destiny. And, as of late, Lord Voldemort. He was shaking in his boots after Viktor's encounter, and he was most enraged that he had been hurt. So, the entire Krum estate was warded as strongly as Gringott's, just in case the Dark Lord came after him again.

He was proud his father was not going to give in and ally himself to Voldemort--many of his friends could not say the same thing. He, however, was safely free, and he assured Hermione there was no place safer than with him.

Her parents certainly had reserves aboit letting her visit, she had written. But she would find a way to see him, and would write him when she could.

So, for three days he had waited, and still no response had come. He was on the verge of ripping his hair out; he could hardly stand it. He missed her terribly already. 

It didn't help that the nightmares were relentless. Every night, he would wake up screaming, the voice of the Dark Lord echoing around in his head. He would scream for chances lost, visions provided, and the cold, haunting feeling of such a strong source of Dark....

Yes, there was Dark in Viktor, and a part of him longed to fulfill that. Part of him still refretted not helping Voldemort, not turning Harry in.

Which was why he needed Hermione. He needed her gentle guidance and strong morals and beauty to remind him why to stay in the Light. He couldn't waste time moping around, forgetting her....

He would write again, he decided. 

* * *

"Mum, Dad, you don't understand what he's been through! We can't just leave him there in Bulgaria! He's having nightmares--" Hermione was cut off by her mother's impatient stare.

"We can't have him here! You said it yourself, darling. He doesn't fit in well with us--er, muggles." Mrs. Granger chided. 

"Yes, but, I can't go to Bulgaria! It's so far away!" Hermione protested, crossing her arms and turning away. "But I can't stay away from him, either. He needs me." 

Her father looked up from his book. "We raised you to be independent. Why can't Viktor? You don't need to do anything for him, Hermione."

"You don't understand!" Hermione repeated. "He's been under the influence of a powerful Dark Lord. He's in trauma." She shook her head, searching for a way to make them understand. "It's like when dictators manipulate people into doing terrible things. Remember how you taught be that, a few summers before I left for Hogwarts? You can't just leave him, not when he was under the inflience of a manipulative mad man!" 

Mrs. Granger frowned. "But from what you said, it was a short period of time, and he didn't _do_ anything." She mumbled. "Isn't he fine?"

Hermione groaned. "The magic amplifies the experience, Mum. Not to mention he was left physically wounded, and he might be under some sort of Legili--"

Mr. Granger dropped his book. "Hermione, love, we're not saying that what happened wasn't horrible. We just don't want you to feel obligated to take care of him." He spoke softly, tilting his head.

"Yes, darling," her mother agreed. "And from what _The Prophet_ has said, Voldemort hasn't been a problem, and won't be. Why do you feel the need to help this boy?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but found herself at a loss for words. What did her parents know about Viktor? What did they know from the media coverage he got? About their relationship?

She set her jaw. " _The Prophet_ is bullshit, just like all newspapers. You taught me that." She spat, lifting her chin. "And I want to help Viktor, because I--" She paused, and stuttered, but finished, "I think I love him!"

Both of her parents raised their eyebrows. "So it's not total bullshit," her father said thoughtfully. "We read a few things about you and him."

"But we wanted to hear you say it," her mother admitted. "Why didn't you just say so, darling?" She asked quietly.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Because I thought you wouldn't approve." She confessed, looking at the ground. 

"Nonsense. You've spoken well of him, and I hear he is a talented Quidditch player. Is that a good profession for a wizard?" Her father asked, leaning over to look at The Prophet, which was blazing with Quidditch headlines, and nothing to do with the rise of Voldemort.

"Yes," Hermione choked with a smile. "It's very good."

"Well, go on, then," her mother laughed. "Tell him he should come stay with us."

Hermione had a quill in hand in seconds.

* * *

 Harry hated living with the Dursleys. He had never forgotten that, of course, but he didn't understand why Dumbledore seemed to think he needed a reminder of it. He agreed with Cedric--fat lot of good they had done, protecting him from Voldemort. 

And, in all honesty, he would have rather face The Dark Lord than clean another pair of Dudley's underwear. Even if it had been only two, there were some things you tired of quickly.

Of course, there were many occasions where he would have preferred to threaten them with hexes, but he couldn't quite do that. Not if he didn't want the Ministry up his tail, that is. So, when he wasn't doing chores, he was avoiding the Dursley's thoroughly. 

There was a nearby park where he often hung around--there were rarely any kids there. He didn't quite know why it was so empty, but he didn't care. It was a place to give him solace, away from the insults and cruelty of the Dursleys. 

He hadn't gotten any letters from Cedric or anyone else yet, but he supposed they were busy. That was alright. He would be seeing them soon--he knew Cedric lived right next to the Weasley's. That would be great fun. He wondered why they had never gotten close beforehand. 

He decided to write all of this down, and he would send it to Cedric. And of course, one for Ron, too. And Hermione. Was she in Bulgaria? He didn't know. 

He pulled a piece of parchment and a pen out of his bag, settling himself under the tree at the playground. He started with his letter to Cedric.

He mostly complained about the Dursley's and their poor treatment of him and lack of intelligence. Then, he wrote a few paragraphs about the nightmares he had been having about the Final Task, and how his scar had been hurting more lately.

Which made no sense to him... Because Voldemort hadn't risen, had he? He should have gone quiet... Which he had, really, as fat as news went. There hadn't been a single article on Death Eaters or the Task or even Viktor Krum before he had left, and he'd bet his robes that there hadn't been any more. 

_Which is suspicious, don't you think? Maybe when you write back you can send me a copy of the Prophet. Merlin, what do they write about if there's no front page of us snogging, and there's nothing about Death Eaters? Quidditch, perhaps?_

He found himself beginning to write ramblings on how much he missed Cedric and Hogwarts anyway, because even with all the danger and Dark Lords, he was much happier there. 

He stopped writing, though, because he saw Dudley and his gang approaching. He scrambled to cover up the parchment as the group approached. 

"Dudley." He stammered, awkwardly trying to shove the parchment into his bag.

"Harry, hairy Harry," Dudley smirked, approaching him. "Get it? Hairy. Like on his head." He snickered, and his goons guffawed in response. 

_Gods, even Malfoy is more clever than that_ , Harry thought.

"What've we here, Harry?" Dudley asked, bending over with sone difficulty to snatch the paper away.

"None of your business!" Harry cried, standing up to dart away. Too late, though, the Dursley spawn already had the letter.

"Is so," he spat, stopping to mouth the words he was trying to read. "Who's Cedric? Your boyfriend?" He laughed, apparently not yet realizing the reality of his words. His cronies cackled in approval. 

"Its rude to read other people's letters, Dudley," Harry warned him. "You don't want to make me angry."

The gang laughed, and Dudley tried to keep reading. "But you can't do anything, can you? Says so right here, where you're complainin' about me and my parents." He spat, mucus flying out of his mouth onto Harry's shoes. "Ungrateful little sod."

The rest of the boys encircled him and Harry, aiming spit at him.

"Taking some lessons from Vernon, are you?" Harry asked, wishing he could hex them all and run away, and that Dudley didn't finish reading the letter.

Dudley didn't answer, instead looking up. "You little queer." He hissed. "You _have_ got a boyfriend!" 

The group gasped, and spat some more.

"Maybe I have," Harry replied, spinning to avoid as much hack as he could. "It's more than any've you got."

Dudley's eyes narrowed. "Beat him."

Harry froze, and then put all his weight into running into Dudley, nearly knocking him over. Harry almost made it out, too, except one of the taller boys grabbed him. Some of them befab flinging punches at him.

"What's going on?" An elderly voice called. "Who are you fighting? If you don't stop I'll tell all of your mothers!" 

Harry couldn't see the source of the voice, but apparently it was enough to scare off a good portion of the group. Still, Harry fell to the ground, and was given a last few resounding kicks. 

"You, too, Dudley!" The voice cried. "Get away from him!"

Another kick, then heavy breathing and fast, hard footsteps going away. "I'm showing this to Mum and Dad!" Dudleat cried, stomping away. He still had the letter.

"Are you alright?"

Harry sat up and corrected his glasses, finding Mrs. Figg standing above him, offering a hand.

"Fine, thanks to you, Mrs. Figg." He exhaled, taking her hand and standing up. "Why're you here?"

"Just keeping an eye on you, Harry. You know what dangerous times these are." She mumbled, still holding his hand. "Why don't you come home with me? We can clean you up and get some food into you."

Harry frowned. "Thank you, Mrs. Figg. What do you mean, dangerous? I haven't heard anything of late."

She tugged on his hand. "Don't play coy. Dumbledore told me everything, even if the Prophet stays quiet." She snapped, leading him up the driveway.

"D-Dumbledore?" Harry pulled his hand free, incredulous. "You know Dumbledore?"

"Of course! That's why I'm here! Now let's get you inside so we can talk more."

She tugged him into her house, which he remembered from childhood to smell like cabbage and be filled with cats. 

"Pardon the mess," she told him, shoving him into an old armchair. She faded into the kitchen to fetch something or other, leaving Harry to sit dumbfounded and pondering her words. 

She came out with a potion bottle. "Drink this. It helps with the bruises and the pain." She said, handing it to him. 

He sniffed it, realizing it smelled identical to the potions Madam Pomfrey gave him. He swallowed it, feeling immediately better.

"Like Magic," he said cautiously. 

She smiled. "Its fine, Harry. I told you--I know Dumbledore. No need to treat me like a muggle. Why, did you know my cats are part kneazle?" She inquired, as one of them materialized to receive some attention.

"I don't understand." He said, taking a warm wet rag she handed him, beginning to wipe off the spit on him where he could find it. 

"I'm a squib, dearie." She informed him. "Dumbledore had me stay here to keep an eye on you when you first came here. After Voldemort, you know..."

"And why didn't you tell me before?" He demanded, watching as she disappeared into the kitchen again. "It would've helped!"

Her sigh could be heard from the other room. "You were too young, Harry. Dumbledore's orders."

She came back with a kettle of brewing tea and a plate of chocolate biscuits. "Here, eat up. I know the Dursleys don't treat you well." 

Harry took one and ate it in a few bites. "So, why? Why are you telling me now?" He asked.

"I thought the time was right. Besides, the Order of the Phoenix will be meeting soon, and you'd see me there." She explained, taking a biscuit for herself, too.

"Order of the Phoenix?" Harry asked her. 

"The opposite of the Death Eaters, dearie. We follow Dumbledore. He's decided it's time we meet again. There's dark tales circulating about Voldemort," she whispered, shuddering as she said the name.

"How do you mean?" 

She poured a cup of tea. "People are very upset that he didn't rise back to power, Harry. There are people in the shadows, whispering about his return... They say they've locked up Azkaban tighter than ever."

Harry shuddered, too. "So the Ministry knows?" He asked. 

"Likely they do, otherwise it wouldn't all be so hush-hush, don't you think?" She muttered quietly, sipping her tea. 

"Ms. Figg," Harry began, "don't you think I ought to get back? To the Dursleys, I mean." He was feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden. 

"Nonsense, Harry dear. The Dursleys won't be altogether happy to hear about the letter, will they?" She frowned. "No, I don't think it's safe for you to return to them."

Harry shook his head. "I'll manage, ma'am. Staying might make it worse, actually." He stood to leave, realizing he was telling the truth. And a minute more of cabbage odor and kneazle fur might drive him mad.

He thanked her and hurried out the door before she could stop him, ready to face the Dursleys. 

It wouldn't be pretty. 

* * *

 A note appeared on Cedric's bedstand. He didn't know how it had gotten there, but it fluttered on the table at flipped itself over. 

_Get Harry out._

 

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Some wizards knew the muggle London Underground better than others. This particular group knew it quite well, having been forced to adopt it as their home.

All except one, who was very different from the rest of the group, anyhow.

 _Werewolves_ , Lucius thought bitterly. _Why in Merlin's name did I decide to work with werewolves?_

"Cold, Malfoy?" A short and haggard man laughed. "You look out of your element." He set his face into a vicious smile, moving uncomfortably close to him. Lucius could smell the filth on him and flinched.

A tall, red haired woman dressed in ragged muggle clothes yanked the man away. "Back off, Spence. You leave the guest alone." 

"Meat, he is." Another one to the left of him growled. He had blue hair and a vicious scowl, the only one in the group wearing robes. "Too bad he's a coward and came so far from the full moon."

"I'm no coward." Lucius said coolly. "This time was simply best for my interests--I thought your heads might be clearest. Perhaps I was too hopeful." He shrugged himself away from the touch of Spence again.

"Hush, all of you!" The woman snapped. "We're almost to the den. Don't want to act up in front of Rodyn, do you?" 

Lucius felt a shimmer of surprise manifest itself within his chest, but he chose not to show it. "Rodyn?" He asked calmly.

"Oh, no," the blue haired man sneered. "You didn't take yourself to the wrong pack, did you?" He laughed maniacally as they entered a literal hole in the wall of the Underground.

"Of course not." Lucius sniffed. "I am aware that Fenrir Greyback is... otherwise _occupied_." He stopped walking to regard the low ceilinged room he found himself in. There were several messes of mats and blankets on the ground, and more passage ways leading Merlin-knew-where. 

"Occupied." Spence repeated, spitting on the ground. "More like in Azkaban because your kind didn't carry out the plan." 

Even the female spoke up this time. "We told Fenrir not to get involved with wizards. And yet we have to deal with you now, too."

Lucius bit back a harsh response, instead choosing to close his eyes and count his breath while the werewolves began arguing. He didnt have to see to feel that several others had snuck into the room to watch. He could feel the filth... There must have been twenty of them.

"Hush." A quiet, hard voice rang out. "We are here to do business."

Lucius opened his eyes, and there were not twenty. Only nine. There was one older-looking man in front of him, staring at equal height with cloudy blue eyes. Grey peppered his dark hair, and his expression was blank.

"Rodyn Blindeye." The man said, with the same gentle steel. 

"Blindeye?" Lucius swallowed, thinking it strange that this man would be head of the pack. Weren't disabilities frowned upon by werewolves?

Rodyn laughed. "Prejudice laces your voice already." He stepped back, and began to circle Lucius. "I can see with more than just my eyes. Fenrir knew that." 

"I'm sure." Lucius replied, stilling the chill that threatened its way down his spine. "Do you know why I'm here, All-Seer?" He asked, drawing on his knowledge of werewolf culture. If the pack leader was gone, then either his mate or his advisor would take over. If this Rodyn was a Seer, it would explain his blindness.

But how? He rarely paid attention to werewolf politics, but the last werewolf seer was--

"A bold guess, Mr. Malfoy." Rodyn said, jarring him from his thoughts. "I am indeed the All-Seer, though part of me feels you meant it as an insult."

Lucius eyed the other members of the pack. They were edging away slowly, leaving Lucius to their seer. Oh, how he hated werewolves. And when they were a pack, they were even worse. They hardly seemed human to him. 

"I meant no offense. Now, shall we discuss the reason for my visit?" He asked, doing his best to mask his impatience. Normally, he could hold out forever, but the stench was starting to get to him. 

Rodyn grimaced. "I know why you're here, and it is by no stretch of divine knowledge. You want assistance in rising the Dark Lord." He stopped circling, staring straight into Lucius' eyes, unwavering. "But why should we help?"

Lucius was taken aback. "Isn't it what Fenrir wanted? The Dark Lord could offer you everything." He paused, feeling dismayed when there was no response. "Of course, I am not expecting free labour! We can offer you Wolfsbane," he added quickly.

The werewolves laughed, sounding less and less human to Lucius' ears. He could not prevent himself from shivering this time. 

"To you, we are Fenrir, and we are not! You don't know what you say. We must want to serve the Dark Lord because Fenrir did, but don't you realize that he would have never accepted your offer of wolfsbane?" Rodyn asked with a snarl. 

"I--"

"Hush, Malfoy." The All-Seer snapped. "Lycanthropy is not a disease to be cured or subdued. We do not need your Wolfsbane--we don't want to be like anymore like your kind. Wizards outcast us the minute we are bitten; we embrace that now." 

A cackle of agreement spread amongst the wolves. 

"Fenrir wanted to help the Dark Lord." Lucius reminded him helplessly. 

"And that was his own mistake, was it not? Because now he rots in Azkaban. I warned him-- _we_ _warned_   him--not to deal with wizards. Now he is paying for his foolishness!" Rodyn the All-Seer proclaimed boldly. 

This time, the approval was not so loud. Suddenly, the room felt divided. Lucius fought back a smirk. This was exactly the opportunity he needed. 

"It was not the fault of Fenrir, but of Crouch and Wormtail. They failed to acquire Potter, thus killing Crouch and forcing Wormtail to flee--stranding your Fenrir." Lucius addressed the pack, lifting his chin and looking strong. It was not the blind werewolf he needed to win over; he was fruitless. He needed to appeal to the pack. 

"I assure you," he continued, looking around the circle of bedraggled half-breeds, "that my supervision will lead to much more profitable ends. For all of us. We might even free Fenrir!"

Rodyn scoffed. "Don't speak as if you are a leader. You weren't even there, Malfoy." He seemed to feel Lucius stiffen, and went on confidently. "You thought the Dark Lord was dead, didnt you? And now you want to take claim to his power by coming to his aid."

The All-Seer lowered his voice. "But you're wrong, Malfoy. You already abandoned him. You are nothing to him. You have unclean blood." 

Lucius took a step back, away from the stench of filth. "Lies!" He exclaimed, turning to the pack. "He feeds you lies. He only wants to dissuade you from assisting me so he may stay in power. I can get you your leader back--strong and powerful, nothing like this blind weakling!" He thrust his hands in reference to Rodyn, the aging, blind All-Seer. 

"Strong words for a liar and a coward, Malfoy." Rodyn said quietly. 

Lucius rounded on him. "And you strike low for one who claims to be all-seeing." He snarled. "I say your 'gift' is nothing more than lies, wit, and a good gift for listening. Do you not agree?" He turned to face the pack. 

They were silent. 

"Perhaps you are deaf, Malfoy? Because you have not realized the pack doesn't listen to you. And you have not heard my words." Rodyn said gravely. "I have heard the whispers of the spirit of the Dark Lord--"

Lucius cut him off. "You are a Seer, not a Necromancer. How can you claim this?"

"And the Dark Lord is not dead, is he? My blindness allows me to see more than just the future." Rodyn retorted, acting as if the pack were not there. "I tell you, Malfoy, your efforts are in vain. Your blood is tainted, your name is spoiled with cowardice, and--" He broke off with a soft laugh. "Your son is damned. Oh, if only you could see your son..."

Lucius felt rage boil up inside him, shaking his chest and riling his magic. "You speak nothing but drivel, Rodyn Blindeye." He snarled, and turned back to the group. "I shall not take this any longer. For the rest of you, I offer Wolfsbane and a chance to redeem yourself once the Dark Lord comes back to power. I will not divulge our plan, for fear of well listening snitches." He took a last residing glance at Rodyn, and turned to leave.

"They won't listen to you, Malfoy. We are small, but we are a pack. We do not waver." Rodyn called after him. More quietly, Lucius heard him say, "Ardfyn. Escort him out so he doesn't get himself run over by any muggles. We don't want to be blamed for his death--as worthless as he is." 

Lucius scowled, but waited by the entry for his escort. A tall, raven-haired man, more well kept than the others. He still reeked of halfbreed filth, though, no matter how he tried. 

He hovered behind Lucius, for a while only moving to push him against the side wall to prevent Lucius from being squashed by a fast moving, crashing metal cyllinder. 

"Didn't you hear the train?" Ardfyn asked. 

"Train?" Lucius asked, brushing himself off and only half-grateful he didn't hex the werewolf for touching him. 

He onmy grumbled in response, continuing to follow Lucius out of the tunnel. 

"There's none following us." He said after a while longer. 

"I'm aware."

"Good, then we can talk, Malfoy." Ardfyn quickened his pace, and was walking shoulder to shoulder with Lucius. 

"About what?" Lucius asked, recoiling slightly.

"You said you have Wolfsbane." He said rapidly, looking at Lucius with desperation. "What do I have to do? I have a daughter and a wife at home. If I have the Wolfsbane, I wouldn't have to fear staying with them again. I can get out of these wretched tunnels."

Lucius frowned. "How can I trust that you're not doing this to betray me to your pack?" He asked.

"I'll do anything." Ardfyn panted. "I swear on my blood to stay loyal to you. Pack be damned--they might even listen to me, you know. We all hate Rodyn; he's a weak leader. You could help us--"

"Silence, werewolf. Your blood means nothing to me." Lucius snapped. "And your words provide nothing to trust."

"I'm a pure blood. We were Welsh, a small family. I married into an Irish pure blood family. Does that mean nothing to you?" Ardfyn pleaded. "I did not choose to be a werewolf, Malfoy. But because I am, I can help you. I'll do anything you like." 

Lucius wanted to halt, but thought it safer to get closer to the entrance of the Underground. 

"It means something." He said pensively. "Enough, then. I will pay a visit to your family and see if you speak the truth."

Ardfyn grasped his shoulder. "No! You can't hurt them!"

Lucius brushed him off. "Relax. I did not mean it in such a way. I have a family of my own; I understand. Meet me in one week, and if I can trust you, I will supply the Wolfsbane. Then we will discuss what I need you to do--under more secure circumstances than this."

The werewolf grinned eagerly. "Thank you Mr. Malfoy. May I bring others, if they choose to help?"

Lucius frowned. "Watch yourself. You do not know who you can trust; bring too many, and I may fear for my safety." He quickened his face, seeing the light that led to freedom and fresh air. "No, bring me their names."

"I can do that." Ardfyn whispered.

"Excellent." Lucius smirked. "This is where we part ways. In a week's time, perhaps you shall be above ground again as well."

"Thank you." Ardfyn panted. "I will have my family again."

Lucius did not acknowledge him, instead apparating away, now that he was safely above ground.

 _Werewolves_ , he thought. _Such pitiful creatures._

* * *

Harry slid open the door to the Dursley's, hoping to enter unnoticed. It was a fat chance, he knew, especially if Dudley really did show Vernon and Petunia the letter. There were more than enough things disclosed in it to get him into serious trouble. 

"Don't try and be sneaky, boy!" Petunia cried, materializing in the livingroom doorway. 

"You have some explaining to do!" Vernon shouted, poking from out behind her. 

"Lovely." Harry muttered, frozen in place. "Do I really get to explain for once?" He asked innocently. 

"Sit down in the living room, boy, before I feel tempted to knock you into the room myself!" Vernon ordered. 

"Yessir." Harry murmured, making a big deal out of fitting between Vernon and the doorway. It earned him a quick shove, and he stumbled onto the floor.

"Dudley tells us you wouldn't talk to him because you were writing a letter, and you taunted him with its contents." Petunia sniffed, looking down at Harry with an expression that said she knew her son had been lying, but she didn't care. 

"And that was a dumb thing to do, boy," Vernon growled.

Harry couldn't think of a witty response. He just swallowed.

"Shall I tell you what the letter said?" Vernon asked, glaring as Harry scrambled to a sitting position. 

"No thanks. I wrote it, so I know what it said." Harry replied, trying to swallow his fear.

Vernon scowled, and the vein in his neck began to bulge. "Shut your mouth, you filthy little homosexual!" 

"Oh. That bit." Harry mumbled, bracing himself as Vernon prepared to hit him. 

The blow came, and Harry dazedly pulled himself to his feat. The Gryffindor in him told him to take the fight standing. His gaze flitted to Petunia, who stood in the corner silently, some emition resting on her face. Was that... Pity?

"And you dare speak so rudely of us! You ungrateful, spoiled brat!" Vernon bellowed, hitting Harry square in the chest. "I think that school of yours has made you soft and spoiled." He said quietly, invoking more fear in Harry than ever before. 

"You can't keep me here." Harry breathed. 

"Oh, but we can." Vernon hissed. "And we should! Set you straight again. We won't be having any queers in this house." 

"No!" He protested. "I'm the Boy Who Lived. They need me--Voldemort is coming back! I-if you don't let me go back, then Voldemort will come after you, too!" He cried, grasping at strings.

"Look at him, Petunia!" Vernon cried. "He's growing cocky on us. We'll have to straighten that out, won't we? Put him in his place." He lifted his fist once more. 

"Vernon!" Petunia cried, grasping her husband's shoulder. It was too late, though. Harry's glasses had already flown of, scraping his face along the way. Blood trickled out of his nose. 

"Vernon." Petunia whispered. "That is _enough_. How will we explain this to the neighbors?" She asked. 

Harry's voice came out raspy. "Oh, I don't know. Spin some bullshit story about me not wanting to talk to you, and taunting you, and not mention the suspicious bruises all over my body. Like Dudley did."

Petunia swallowed and shook her head, and Vernon began to rumble some more. 

"Ignore him, dear." Petunia told Vernon. "Let's just send him away. He's right--if...V-Voldemort is coming back, we can't have him around. He is, after all, the reason my sister was killed." She said quietly. 

"Don't mention the witch." Vernon spat. "I say we make him suffer. If we--" He was cut off by a loud roar from the fireplace. 

And, to Harry's great delight, Cedric popped out of the floo flames. It was a miracle--was the house even connected to a Floo Network?

"What's this about making Harry suffer?" He demanded, taking Harry by the shoulders and propping him up.

"W-who are you?" Vernon sputtered, his eyes bulging. Petunia slipped behind him and squawked as more people came out of the fireplace. Mr. Weasley and Ron.

"His boyfriend." Cedric spat, assuredly putting his arm around Harry.

"You--you..." Vernon stuttered, pointing a shaking finger at them.

"Flaming homosexuals." Petunia finished quietly.

Then, Dudley appeared. "Dad, what happened? Aren't you going to show Harry a--" He broke off as he saw a bleeding Harry in Cedric's arms, along with the two red-haired wizards.

"Go away, Dudley. You shouldn't be near these people." Vernon advised.

"What on earth did you do to him?" Ron exclaimed, staring at Harry's broken, crooked nose. 

"I--" Vernon began. 

"Oh, keep it to yourself. I happen to be an expert in all things Muggle," Mr. Weasly growled, "and I know that you can be arrested for hurting Harry like this."

Petunia's eyes widened, and she grasped Vernon's arm. "What do you want?" She asked desparatrly. 

"Don't listen to them!" Vernon cried. "No one will believe him in a court." He added triumphantly. 

"Keep telling yourself that. I have three, er, witnesses. And the victim is covered in bruises." Mr. Weasley countered. 

"He could have gotten those anywhere! He's bully-able. You dont know it was me who hit him!" Vernon cried.

Harry pulled himself up straighter against Cedric, who had yet to let go of him. "Forget it, Mr. Weasley." Harry choked. "They're not worth it. I want to leave."

Mr. Weasley glared at the Dursleys, but nodded to Harry. "Fine, then." He took out a handful of Floo powder, and threw it into the fireplace. "The Burrow!"

Before the Dursleys could blink, Harry was gone, and in the warm familiarity of the Burrow. 

Molly Weasley waited for them, as well as Ginny and the twins. 

"Harry!" They all cried. 

"Are you alright?" Mrs. Weasley asked. 

"Your nose!" Ginny cried.

"What the hell did they do?" George demanded. 

"Can we hurt them, Dad?" Fred asked, moving towards the fireplace. 

"Whoa, whoa." Mr. Weasley said, helping Cedric lead Harry to the couch. "Give the boy a minute before you start shouting. He's pretty beat up."

Mrs. Weasley straightened herself. "I'll get the potions," she said quietly, scurrying off into the kitchen. 

Harry winced as he sat down. "I'm fine, really. It wasn't too bad." He assured them. "Thanks for getting me out." 

"Not too bad?" Cedric demanded, gingerly touching the swollen skin around Harry's nose. It hurt badly, and he flinched away.

"What kind of grown man does this to a teenage boy?" Mr. Weasley scoffed, watching with crossed arms. 

Ron crosse over to the sofa and sat next to Harry. "What else did they do to you?" He asked, peering at Harry's face. 

"Dudley's gang gave a good kicking earlier. That was worse, but Mrs. Figg helped me out." Harry explained, trying to smile when he saw Mrs. Weasley enter with the medicines.

"Ginny, dear, give him the salve while I fix his nose." She said, pointing a wand at his face. She said a quick incantation, and his nose snapped back into place. Ginny timidly dabbed some salve on his face. 

"Here, let me," Cedric said, maintaining his charm so it sounded more like, _you look like you're having trouble,_ rather than, _hands off my boyfriend._

Cedric's hand was less afraid as he rubbed the salve onto Harry's nose. "Any other places I should put this?" He asked, finishing with a stroke beneath Harry's eye, which had also begun to swell purple. 

"The potion should help, Cedric," Mrs. Weasley said, handing Harry a bottle. 

"Do you think it's bad I've already had a bottle of this today?" Harry asked, inspecting the purple bottle. 

"Bad that you needed it twice? Yes." Ron scowled. 

"Take it from us, Harry," George snickered. 

"Two doses of medicine can't hurt. Two doses of puking pasties will." Fred finished for him, pulling an unexpected box of pranking treats.

Harry's eyes widened, and he decided he would rather the medicine than anything in the box. He swallowed it in one go, feeling the swollenness decrease.

"There you go." The twins said.

"Did I do alright on his nose, Cedric?" Mrs. Weasley asked. Harry blushed. Of course _Cedric_ was the expert on Harry's nose--not Harry. 

"Its brilliant, Molly," Cedric replied, wiping a remaining bit of salve on top of it. "Professional, really."

"You get rather good at it when you've had enough kids." She chirped, wrapping an arm around Ginny. 

"How do you feel, Harry?" Ginny asked, sitting down on the floor. "Care to tell us what happened?"

"Please, do," Mrs. Weasley added.

 Cedric nodded, slinking an arm around Harry. "I want to know why he was hitting you." He whispered. 

Harry shuddered, but moved closer into his embrace. "I was writing letters, and Dudley took Cedric's from me. He showed his parents after he and his gang kicked me about." He explained. 

"Er, what was in the letter?" Mr. Weasley asked, taking a seat in an armchair. 

Harry felt the tips of his ears go hot. "Well, firstly ranting about what a horrible time I was having. Then about Voldemort." He felt Cedric's grip tighten around his shoulder. "And, er, then some mindless drivel about how much I, er, missed Cedric." He mumbled.

Cedric grinned and pressed his face against Harry's. "I'd love to hear some of that drivel sometime," he whispered, causing Harry to blush even more. The twins snickered, and Ron groaned, used to it by now.

"Come now, boys," Mr. Weasley chided. "This is a serious matter." 

Harry sighed. "Do we have to go over it right now? I'm happy that it's over, and I think I could use some rest. And maybe some dinner," he added, feeling his stomach's protests. 

"Rest and food!" Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Two things you will not be lacking here." 

Cedric cleared his throat. "Actually, I thought I might show Harry my home. If the rest of you don't mind, of course," he said cautiously. 

"Oh." Mrs. Weasley said. 

"I suppose that's to be expected." Mr. Weasley added.

"May I?" Harry asked timidly, not wanting to leave them so soon after they had just, quite literally, saved him. 

"You can come back tomorrow, mate. Then we can talk." Ron said helpfully. "We're a stone's throw away."

"A bit more than that," Cedric laughed. "But we'll be back." He took Harry's hand and stood up, ready to lead him to his house. 

As they were leaving, Mrs. Weasels called after them, "And, really, don't forget to rest!"

Cedric chuckled, but Harry blushed and tried to hurry away as fast as his bruised body could go. It didn't help that Cedric eventually ended up carrying him. 

But, he had missed him. And he felt at home. 


	3. Chapter 3

The letter from Hermione fluttered on Viktor's windowsill, dropped by the owl with little ceremony. 

He snatched at it desperately, eager to read what she had said. He had waited a week for this. His heart sunk at the first line.  

_Dear Viktor,_

_I cannot join you in Bulgaria this summer. It is too far, and I don't think it's very safe. I am sorry for that._

_However, on the bright side, my parents have offered to let you stay with us for the summer. I really do hope you'll accept--we will have a great time, believe me!_

_I can show you all the museums and shops in downtown London. And maybe we can go see Muggle sports games, if you like!_

_And of course, we can study together. We need to plan what you will do with your life now that you'll no longer be in Durmstrang._

_Please come?_

_Love, Hermione_

Viktor clutched the letter to his chest. It's brevity spoke for her own excitement--she wanted to see him in London. 

And he wanted to see her. She could make the Dark in him go away.

He immediately began packing his bags. He would inform his parents of his departure later.

* * *

Harry's feet dangled in the air, his arms heavy on Cedric's neck and his breath warmly prickling his face. "I hate this." He stated.

"Bollocks." Cedric replied, smiling widely. "This is great."

"How?" Harry asked drily. "And can't you Apparate us?"

Cedric stepped over a large stone on the path and stumbled a bit. "It would be easier, wouldn't it?" He grumbled, not wanting to admit that Harry was a little hard to carry. "But I'm afraid not. I haven't taken the class yet; the Tournament was top priority." 

Harry sighed. "Then let me down so we can walk faster! I think the potion did what it could do." He squirmed in Cedric's arms out of protest. 

"But you need to rest." 

"Later!"

Cedric rolled his eyes, but gave in and gently swung Harry's feet onro the ground. He wrapped an arm around him, and they continued on their way. 

"Thanks." Harry said quietly. "And for saving me, too. How did you know to come?"

Cedric remembered the strange little note that had been fluttering on his bedside table. "I would love to say it was intuition, but I can't." He admitted. "There was a note by my bed. I thought it was from you." 

Harry frowned. "No, it wasn't. Perhaps Ms. Figg sent it?" He wondered. 

"Who is Mrs. Figg?"

"An old woman down the street who used to babysit me. It turns out she's a squib. She mentioned something about following Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix." 

Cedric pursed his lips. "Mr. Weasley should know about that, don't you think? He knew exactly what to do the minute I told him about the note." He removed his arm from Harry's shoulder and reached out to take his hand. "Perhaps he's part of this Order, too?"

"Perhaps." Harry replied. He lifted his head, and pointed over the next grassy hill. "Is that your house I see?" He inquired.

"That would be it. I hope you like it," Cedric told him. "We've got a guest room for you to stay. And my mum's a great cook." 

Harry laughed. "Better than Mrs. Weasley?" He asked. "Thought suppose the guest room might be nice. I usually stay in Ron's room."

Cedric smirked. "Oh, don't think you won't be spending any time in my room, Harry," he whisperes mischievously.

Harry groaned and blushed. "Mrs. Weasley told me to rest."

Cedric rolled his eyes. "You're so chaste, Harry," he sighed dramatically. The easiest way to make Harry uncomfortable was hint at anything sexual. 

"I'm also a few years younger than you," he reminder him. 

Cedric rolled his eyes. "Your birthday's coming up soon." He remarked as they stood atop the hill. He could see his house beneath them, puffing smoke and looking as friendly as ever. 

"We can talk about it later." Harry sighed. "I'm done thinking about anything other than right now."

Cedric tugged on his hand. "Let's hurry, then. Mum and Dad don't even know why I ran out--they think it was just a visit with the Weasley's." He began running down the hill, tugging Harry along behind him. Surprisingly, he did not complain. 

"Let's not tell them the details," Harry puffed, his voice rattled by their hard, jarring foot steps pounding against the stony hill.

Towards the bottom, they slowed their pace, their strides clomping to a stop at the very bottom. Then, Cedric led him towards the doorstep. 

He opened it, leading into a foyer filled with photographs and portraits. A red rug adorned the floor, which was a dark wood. The right wall of the foyer was half wall, half railing for the staircase that led upstairs. Cedric heard Harry utter a small, "Whoa."

"Mum, Dad, I'm home!" Cedric called out, leading Harry straight ahead into the dining room, which had three different doors, leading respectively to the kitchen, the sitting room, and a sun room, where his father grew several plants.

"How were the Weasley's?" His mother called from the kitchen. "Your father's still at work, but--" She appeared in the doorway, immediately noticing Harry. 

"Hullo." He said timidly. "Sorry for dropping by at such short notice. I'm afraid I haven't brought anything with me," he confessed.

Suddenly, he rounded on Cedric. "I haven't got any of my things," he gasped, his eyes widening. "Hedwig! Cedric, they have Hedwig!" He cried.

Cedric placed a hand on Harry's face. "Relax." He breathed. The Weasleys will help with that, I'm sure."

Mrs. Diggory tapped her foot. "Is everything alright, boys?" She inquired.

Cedric turned to face her again. "Fine, mum. Harry just needs some rest and some food. He's a little shaken up."

His mother frowned, knowing better than to ask questions, apparently. "Show him to a bed. I'll bring him up some soup." 

Cedric took his hand, leading him back to the foyer and up the stairs. "I don't think the guest room is made up yet," he whispered.

"I think you're just saying that to get me into your room." Harry retorted, apparently not complaining. 

"Perhaps." Cedric replied, not caring particularly much either way. 

At the top of the stairs, Harry asked, "Might I use your shower? I can't say if I've gotten all of Dudley's spit out of my hair." 

Cedric shuddered. "Please do. And don't be offended when I don't offer to join you--I don't plan on testing my mother's tolerance." He muttered, leading Harry into his room. "The wash room is right through there. I'll see if I can find something to fit you."

Harry pulled his shirt off, and dropped it to the floor. Cedric smiled at the familiar sight, but recoiled when he saw some bruises still discoloring Harry's chest. 

"The potion didn't do all it was supposed to." He remarked. "You're not hurting, are you?"

Harry shook his head. "Really, I'm fine. They don't hurt too badly." 

Cedric frowned. "Go and wash up."

Harry turned to comply. He disappeared into the bathroom, but he left the door open. Cedric listened to the sound of running water.

He busied himself with tidying around his room and making the bed more comfortable. It wasn't a terribly exciting looking bed--white sheets and a few black blankets. His walls were dark red wood like the rest of his house, as was the floor. His walls were tacked with a few Quidditch posters (from several teams; he thought it silly to pick favorites) and some newspaper clippings of the Tournament. Except for the last Task; he tried to forget about it. On his desk laid the golden egg and the miniature Welsh dragon, as well as several books and lots of half-written parchment. He set to organizing that. 

Harry didn't take long, and Cedric had just finished cleaning up the desk when the water came off. He  came out in a minute with soaked hair and and a towel wrapped around his waist. 

"Got any clothes for me?" Harry asked. 

"Dry off and let me find some," Cedric replied, hurrying off to his half-unpacked closet. "It'll be a tad large, I'm afraid. Pajamas are fine?" He inquired.

"Anything will be fine. I'm used to wearing Dudley's old clothes." Harty replied absently. 

"Gods, what are they like? What do they do to you?" Cedric asked, shaking his head and pulling some clothes out. "They're dreadful, I know... But what have they done? And why does Dumbledore let you stay?"

Harry groaned. "I don't want to talk about it, I told you. I'm not there now, am I?"

Cedric sighed and turned around, and his brain could not supply anything intelligible to say. Harry was half bent-over, toweling off his hair, the rest of his body visible. 

"Hullo." Cedric said, his eyes wide. He lost all train of thought regarding Harry's abusive guardians. 

Harry scoffed. "Like you don't see enough naked bodies in your dorm." He teased, reaching out to take the clothes from Cedric. "Give me those before your mum comes up."

Cedric blushed, hastily handing him the clothes and turning to head downstairs in case his mother caught him staring dumbly at Harry. 

As he left, Harry quietly chuckled, "Teach you to call me chaste."

Cedric rolled his eyes and clomped back down the stairs. He met his mother at the bottom; she was just about to head up. She carried a tray with some soup and bread. 

"I can carry that." Cedric told her, taking it out of her hands. 

"Wait," she said. "Is he alright? What happened?"

Cedric pursed his lips. "His guardians found out about us, among other things, I think. They hurt him. The Weasleys somehow managed to Floo in and get him out." He explained.

She nodded. "The Order," she said, vaguely.

"Harry mentioned it. What is it?" Cedric asked. 

His mother shrugged. "Some people seem to believe you have to follow someone. If it's not Voldemort, it's Dumbledore."

"You make it sound like that's a bad thing." He replied, feeling confused by her meaning.

"Oh, but what do I know?" She asked. "I think there's just more than one way or another." She turned around to leave him be. 

"Your father will be home in an hour or so; he's cooking tonight. If Harry wants more than leftover soup, he can join us for dinner then." She disappeared into the dining room.

A sense on unease rested with Cedric, but he brushed it off. He climbed back up the stairs and entered his room, where Harry was peering at some of the papers stacked on his desk.

"Homework already?" He inquired, picking up an essay. 

Cedric placed the tray on the desk. "After the distractions of last year, my studies feel a little lacking," he confessed. 

Harry ripped into the hunk of bread. "Well, by all means, don't let me distract you."

Cedric frowned. "Too late. You keep on diverting me from bringing up the Dursley's. What happened today?"

Harry ate half of the food like a starved man before he responded. 

"Cedric, they're just awful, alright? There's nothing we can do. They hate me." He mumbled, taking another spoonful of soup.

Cedric sighed. "Fine." He took a seat on the bed. "Mum says you can have more dinner when my father comes back." He added, patting the spot next to him in invitation. 

Harry looked up and set down his spoon. "Fair enough," he agreed, getting up and settling himself next to Cedric. Cedric put his arms around him from the side, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I missed you," he whispered.

"It's been two weeks," Harry replied with a grin. 

Cedric took a moment to kiss the lips he hadn't kissed in weeks. "Yes," he agreed, pulling away. "But it was two weeks where I didn't know if you were okay or not."

Harry pulled his body closer to Cedric's, resting his head on his chest. "Stop worrying. I'm here now, aren't I? And tomorrow, I'll ask Mr. Weasley to help get all my things back. And then I won't have to go back to them."

"Dumbledore won't like that," Cedric replied. 

"No, he won't." Harry agreed. "But I don't care. I'm much happier here."

"I'm glad, then."

* * *

Away from the comforts of home or loved ones, Phillip Ardfyn was breaking. It was only a matter of time, he knew, before he became like the rest of them--blindly ingrossed in pack politics, lost to the civilized world. 

He knew there were others in the pack he could trust, however. Not because they were sane, of course, but because they were sick of Rodyn Blindeye and his obscurity. Many still loved Greyback, and they found Blindeye an inadequate leader. 

He would turn to them for help, appeal to their sense of loyalty by playing their admiration for their former leader. It would be risky, but he had to try. It was less than a week before he met with Malfoy, and he wanted to appear useful to him. 

Which would be difficult, after he met with his family. Yes, they were pureblooded, but they were in no way Dark. He hoped it wouldn't be a problem; he honestly doubted Malfoy's faith in the Dark Lord. He didn't believe he would rise back to power, and he didn't believe in Lords in general.

No, he would play in the middle, neither Dark nor Light. All he cared was that he got the Wolfsbane, and then his family would want him again. They wouldn't think he was filthy anymore, they would love him again. 

They would never have to worry about him killing another one of his children again.

He would get what he wanted from Malfoy, because he believed that in the end he wouldn't have to serve the Dark Lord. Besides, he doubted the amount of support that Malfoy could rally. His name was practically synonymout with traitor. 

"What did you think of Malfoy yesterday?" He asked Godwyn, a pale young woman, privately. They were on the way to a muggle butcher shop that often supplied them when there was no hunting. They hadn't since Fenrir left, and even then they had often fed off of rancid meat. Blindeye had different ideas, however. Phillip still thought it was quite terrible--before being bitten, he had been a vegetarian. 

"He was alright." She replied. "Between you and me, I agree with most of what he said. Old Blindeye's been driving me mad." She confessed, looking over her shouldwe with some concern. "You won't tell anybody?"

He shook his head. "Of course not, Godwyn. I agree with him, too." He assured her. "That's why I asked."

She heaved a sigh of relief. "I knew I could trust you." She said quietly. "The rest of the pack has grown so silent. We have no dignity left. We never hunt, and we hide away in the Underground." She whispered. 

"I know," he whispered, silently thinking they had different ideas of dignity. He was of the opinion that they lost their dignity the minute they separated themselves from wizarding society. 

"No," she spat. "You don't know. You are freshly turned; it has hardly been half a year since you joined us. These hiding years are all you know of us." 

"What else was there, besides hiding?" He asked, afraid he didn't want to know. 

"The War." She replied, lifting her nose into the air, looking as if she could smell the memory. "Has it really been fifteen years?" She asked wistfully, rhetorically. 

"Almost." He replied uneasily. "What was it like?"

"Chaos." She laughed, as if that were a good thing. "We ran free in the woods, even when it wasn't the full moon. The pack I was part of at the time, we were a family, not some disjointed clan like this. We even had a house, a cabin deep in the woods."

"What happened to them?" 

Her expression changed, becoming forlorn. "Killed or imprisoned. Wizards are ruthless, Ardfyn. This is their world, not ours." 

"But for a while, it felt like y--ours, didn't it?" He said, seeing the glimmer in her eyes. 

"It did. But we better shut up. Here's the butcher shop." She told him. 

He grabbed her arm. "Wait. Let's not go in yet." He said quietly. "I spoke with Malfoy. He says he has a job for us--"

She smacked him. "I said I agreed with his opinions on Blindeye. I didn't say I wanted to be his pet." She snarled. "He wants to give us Wolfsbane and make us tame dogs. And that's all you want, isn't it? To go home and be a little pet."

He staggered backwards. "No, Godwyn, no. He has so much more to offer! He has so many resources--he could give us anything we ask. He could help us free Fenrir!"

"You think I want Fenrir? Fenrir is just as bad as Blindeye. He is stronger, but he wishes to lick the feet of wizards like Voldemort. They're opposites, and neither are what I want." 

He set his jaw. "Then you start a new pack. Malfoy can help. We just have to play him right, get what we want, and then abandon him. It's not like the Dark Lord is actually going to come back." He scoffed. 

She frowned. "You may be right. But that doesn't change the fact that you're only in it for the Wolfsbane." 

He didn't know how to avoid admitting it without lying. He thought for a moment. 

"That doesn't change the fact I'm still a werewolf," he reminded her. "And I think I want a different kind of pack as much as you do."

She raised an eyebrow. "We better go inside. The butcher is probably wondering what the hell we're doing out here. 

They entered, and the bell rang. The butcher raised an eyebrow. "Tough time with the lady?" He teased Phillip, who glared and shrugged. 

"He's just a pansy sometimes," Godwyn stage whispered. "He's too chicken to go hunting with me."

The butcher laughed. "Well, I can't say that upsets me. If you did, I'd lose my biggest customer." He turned around and picked up a notepad. "Got plenty of pork and mutton. Just sold the last of the beef."

"Anything will do." Phillip said, cringing when he smelled the flesh behind the door. Not because he was disgusted by it; no, the wolf in him loved it. He cringed because he found himself enjoying it. 

Godwyn smirked, somehow knowing his thoughts. "Mutton should do. Though I think he's craving something gamier. Or, I know I am."

"Well," the butcher sighed, "good luck convincing him." He disappeared into the back to fetch the packages of meat. 

Godwyn snuck up behind him, and breathed into his ear. "You don't know yourself yet. You reject the wolf, taking with the rest of the pack and settling for the worst. You have never hunted."

"That wasn't the argument I recall," he hissed back. 

"It is the same. You want to go home, to serve the Wizards, because you don't know what it means to be a wolf. Hunt with me this next full moon, and then I will see about dealing with Malfoy." She offered, stepping away. 

"But I'm meeting him before then." He protested.

"All the better. Then I will really know what he wants." She countered. 

Just then, the butcher re-entered, carrying a stack of parcels, filled with raw meat. "You two own a restaurant or something? You've been coming in an awful lot." 

Godwyn shot him a look that said, _Your turn this time._

Phillip sighed and drew his wand. He felt lucky that the Ministry hadn't found him and snapped it--and they would, as murdering a child was generally a major offense. And he felt equally as lucky that the pack did not ask him to revoke his last tie to the wizarding world.

The butcher frowned. "What's with the stick?"

" _Obliviate."_ Phillip said. The butcher's eyes glassed over. "You didn't see us in front of the shop. When we entered, there was minimal conversation. We paid you extra for this." He dropped his wand, and tucked it back into his pocket. He took the parcels of meat, and handed a few to Godwyn.

"God bless you," the butcher said.

"And you." Godwyn smiled, and she and Phillip left the shop.

"That never feels right." He whispered.

"You're right; it doesn't." She agreed. "Which is why you're coming hunting with me. Then, you're not stealing anything."

Phillip blinked, and faltered for a moment.

_I have to play on both sides. That means winning over the werewolves, too. It's all so I can win out in the end._

* * *

Lucius was alone in his study. His face was buried in his hands, and he was slumped over his desk. No one had ever seen him caught in such an undignified position, and he didn't plan on letting it happen. 

He felt rather lost as to what to do. He had just met with the Ardfyn family. Pitiful, they were. Definitely not as pureblooded as they claimed to be--there was some muggle down the line, he knew it. 

He had scared Ardfyn's wife half to death upon his arrival. The poor woman had gone mad, and she was babbling about a missing child. Her actual child looked terribly malnourished, and probably just as unstable. She spent the entire visot hiding under a table. 

From what Lucius could gather, Ardfyn had murdered and eaten his other child, a son, in his first transformation. That had been sixth months prior, and had left his wife and daughter in such shambles that they both began panicking whenever Lucius mentioned his name. 

Which really didn't help with his cause. When Ardfyn found out that he really had nothing worth coming home to, Lucius would have nothing to hold over him. He would become a rogue wolf, and that was not what he needed. 

He needed someone on the inside, someone who could help him get into Azkaban. Many of the Dark Lord's followers waited there, and Lucius hoped that having Fenrir on the inside would inspire the werewolves' help. 

Fenrir's imprisonment was all his doing, of course. The night of the Dark Lords' failed rise to power, over a month ago now, his Mark had called him to the Graveyard. This was after Krum and the Delacour girl had escaped, and there was a mass of Aurors everywhere. He had found a group of them, and decided he could fall into their good graces if he brought them to the Graveyard. 

It might lose his favor among the Death Eaters there, but he decided to do it. 

At the Graveyard, there were only two other Death Eaters. Fenrir, who had been following Pettigrew closely in order to help the Dark Lord (which had been revealed in later interrogations). The other was not Pettigrew, but Yaxley of all people. He let Yaxley escape unidentified so he might help revive the Dark Lord's small form.

Fenrir, he did not feel so bad about allowing to be arrested. And, as he discovered, he could use it to manipulate the werewolves. However, in order to keep the beasts' support, Fenrir would somehow need to conveniently die during the prison break. If he didn't, he would surely tell all of them Lucius' role in his arrest. 

Not to mention his anti-wizard agenda was rather inconvenient. 

The same spoke for Rodyn Blindeye. He would have to find some way to eliminate him. While he didn't rally as well as Fenrir did, he had superstitous power over the werewolves as their Seer. 

He knew it was all lies and manipulation tactics--after all, how could the filthy half breed know anything about his son? Draco was fine. He would make it out of the war fine. And Lucius would repair their name. 

There was a knock on his door. Three successive raps and two shorter ones. 

"Father," a voice called in. "Mother would like to know if you're still brooding."

"Malfoys do not brood, Draco," Lucius corrected him, sitting up straight and turning to face the door. 

"She said you'd say that. May I come in?"

Lucius removed the locking ward he had cast on the door, and it swung open. His son crossed in, his posture straight and regal, but  looking thin and his eyes dark. 

Lucius didn't think his son had looked so poorly a month ago at the Task, but he hardly remembered what he looked like four weeks after that when he had taken him home from the train station. And he hadn't seen much of him in the two weeks he had been home...

"Are you well, Draco?" Lucius asked, gesturing for him to sit down. 

Surprise crossed his son's face. "I-I'm fine, Father. Why do you ask?"

"You look haggard." Lucius informed him curtly. "And it does no good for a Malfoy to look haggard. Nor does poor health provide any benefit."

Draco paused, shifting in his chair. "I will work on it, then. I suppose I haven't been sleeping well."

Lucius raised his eyebrows, and leaned forward to inspect his boy. He remembered the words of the All-Seer, and superstitious panic rose in his chest. 

"Is there something you're not telling me, Draco?" He inquired, watchinh as his son's ears turned red. 

"No!" He exclaimed. "Not at all!"

"Draco." Lucius snapped. "I need your complete honesty with me, now. You are my son." 

Draco composed himself, and he lifted his chin. "It is nothing of any importance, Father. It's a--a petty thing, really. It has nothing to do with anything you're planning."

Lucius frowned, remembering that his son was still a teenage boy, hardly fifteen, and petty things were bound to have an effect on him. 

"Is this about a girl, Draco?" He asked calmly. "Because such feelings are perfectly natural, you know. I wouldn't blame you if--"

Draco winced. "No! No, let's not have this conversation. It was bad enough when I spoke with Mother about it." He scowled. "No, it's not a... It's not about a girl."

"Then what petty thing is plaguing you if not desire?" Lucius demanded, growing concerned and furious that his son was lying to him. "Need I find a vial of Veritaserum?"

Draco's eyes widened. "No, there's no need, Father." He then closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. "It is nothing of concern." 

Lucius grimaced. "Then perhaps it could be of benefit."

"Please, father," Draco whispered pleadingly. "Not now. You don't need anything more to worry about." His hands flung to his mouth when he realized what he had said. 

"So, it is of concern." Lucius spat, narrowing his eyes. 

Draco stood up. "No! It's not like that!" He shouted. "It's petty! It's nothing to do with your Dark Lord, I promise! Just leave me."

Lucius inhaled deeply, swallowing any rage that would inhibit his sense of judgment. 

"Fine," he whispered. "But we will discuss this later, Draco."

His son sighed in relief and slipped out of the room. Lucius' dread built in his chest, and he wondered how many other things the Seer said were true. 

 _It is easy to see how people get addicted to that kind of power. If I did not know better, I might have fallen to a leader like him instead of someone as true as my Lord Voldemort_. 


	4. Chapter 4

"We got your things back, mate." Ron greeted Harry, ignoring Cedric behind him, who was awkwardly holding up a hand in greeting. 

"Really?" Harry asked, stepping into the Weasley abode. "When?"

"Not long after you left." Mr. Weasley told him, poking his head from around a corner, startling Cedric. "We decided it was best not to wait too long."

"Thank you very much," Harry said, laughing in delight when Hedwig came into view. She was perched atop a cross-eyed Ginny Weasley's head, who was concentratedly feeding the owl cut-up pieces of meat. Hedwig churred happily every time, her claws ever digging into the girls head, who didn't see my to mind.

Cedric watched in amusement as the owl flew off of Ginny's head silently to perch on Harry's arm and nuzzle the boy's face. He looked absolutely delighted. 

"The Dursley's didn't cause much trouble?" Cedric asked Mr. Weasley, imagining their terrified faces when they saw the Wizards were back already. 

"Not at all," Mr. Weasley grinned. "I warned them I was a Ministry employee, and that I could and would hex them. They left us be until we had all of Harry's things."

Ron nodded enthusiastically. "It was brilliant. I don't think you'll have to worry about them for a while, Harry."

"Hopefully never," Harry murmured. 

Cedric nodded in agreement, crossing over to join Harry and timidly pet Hedwig, who was perched on Harry's arm and nibbling at his ear affectionately. 

"Mr. Weasley," Cedric said cautiously, turning to face the man, "you wouldn't happen to know anything about the Order of the Phoenix? It keeps coming up."

He raised an eyebrow. "I would, Cedric. In fact, it's the reason we were able to save Harry."

"How?" Harry asked, looking at Ron and Ginny as if they knew the answer. They both looked as confused as he did. 

"Are you part of it?" Cedric asked, remembering his mum's words about how it was just another group of people who needed to follow someone. If they saved Harry, though, surely they weren't bad?

Mr. Weasley nodded. "Molly and I are, yes." He told them. "So is Arabella Figg, who was most likely the one who sent you that note, Cedric."

Harry nodded. "I gathered that she was a part of it. But what about the Floo? The Dursley's aren't connected to anywhere by Floo; they're muggles." 

"Over the school year, we decided to put their house into the Floo System in case we ever needed to get to you," Mr. Weasley explained. "Strictly for emergencies, of course."

Cedric frowned. "Alright, but what exactly is this Order? My mum didn't seem to want to tell me." He murmured, glancing over at Harry.

"I think you'll see for yourselves soon enough," Arthur replied cryptically. "Or, at least Harry will."

Cedric sighed. He didn't know if that meant he wasn't invited, or if they just assumed his parents would not allow him to go. It would take more than that for him to be separated from Harry, though.  

"What about us, Dad?" Ginny asked, getting up and setting down the small bowl of Hedwig's food. 

"Yeah," Ron frowned, "we're not getting left out of this, are we?" 

Mr. Weasley raised his eyebrows. "I'm not saying you're going to attend the meeting," he cautioned, "but that doesn't mean you won't get to be there. After all, Molly and I can't leave the lot of you alone here, can we?"

Fred and George apparated into the room, stuffing something into each of their pockets.

"Of course you can!" Fred exclaimed. 

"We'd make great guardians for the ickle little ones," George agreed.

Cedric scowled. "I'm the same age as you two."

"Yes, but we wouldn't expect you to be staying here anyway." Both the twins said, turning on him like a machine. 

Mr. Weasley rolled his eyes. "I should hope you're all coming. You'll be able to learn who your allies are--who you can and can't trust."

Cedric bit his tongue, and stopped himself from saying that that was dangerous black and white thinking. He didn't think everyone on their side would be there, and nor did he believe that everyone there was completely trustworthy. 

Harry frowned. "I should like to go. I still don't quite know what it is yet," he shook his head. "I'm sure I'll learn. Is anyone else I know part of this Order?"

"You'll get to see Sirius and Remus," Mr. Weasley said with a wink.

Harry beamed, and Cedric did, too. He was glad Harry would get to see them; he remembered how fondly he spoke of them. 

"Well, when is it?" Harry asked eagerly. 

"You'll find out later," Mr. Weasley assured them. "For now, do something fun with yourselves. You're still kids, despite everything."

"We got your broom!" Ron piped at Harry. "Why don't we have a go at it?"

Harry grinned. "Yes! I didn't think I'd have a chance to this summer." 

Cedric, feeling slightly invisible, cleared is throat. "I'm afraid I left mine at home. Could I borrow one of yours?" He asked the Weasley's.

Harry turned to face him. "Of course! Let's go!" He darted out of the room, presumably to go outside. 

Ron groaned, and gave Cedric a pained look that didn't make him feel welcome.

_I'm used to it by now. Why isn't he?_

He didn't let it get to him, of course. He tried to focus on the happiness that Harry felt here, with his friends. That was what mattered. 

* * *

Hermione hadn't expected Viktor to come so soon. She had, at the very least, expected a response before hand. But, somehow, she didn't feel the need to complain when he showed up on her doorstep four days after she mailed him the letter. 

"Hermione!" He cried when she opened the door. "The port key took me to the incorrect place. I have just walked three hours through muggles to get to you."

She laughed merrily and wrapped her arms around his neck in embrace. "How chivalrous." She laughed.

He chuckled. "That is me. May I come inside?"

"Of course! Of course." She said, opening the door fully to let him in. "Mum! Dad! Come to the door!" 

Viktor crossed the threshold into the home, regarding the muggle furnishings with apparent interest. "It is nice." He commented. 

Hermione shrugged, feeling conscious that it was probably nothing compared to what he was used to. He was just being polite--she knew it. 

She never had to be worried about her status around Harry and Ron, but it was different around Viktor.

"Yes," Viktor continued. "It is much nicer than my home. Very warm, and no frightening portraits of ancestors." He smiled widely. "And vot is this on your floor? It is not a rug." 

Hermione watched as he crouched onto the floor and touched the carpet. 

"That's carpet. Muggles use it a lot," she informed him, fighting back a giggle.

"It is very soft." He determined. "Why don't wizards use this? It vould be very nice in the Bulgarian vinters."

It was at that moment when both of her parents entered, sharing a concerned look when they spotted Viktor on the floor, petting their floor.

"Mum, Dad," Hermione cleared her throat. "This is Viktor." 

He stood up straight and brushed off his hands, offering his hand to her father. "How do you do," he said, shaking her father's hands.

He took her mother's hand and kissed it. Hermione pulled him away before he made an inevitable carpet-softness analogy. 

"Hello, Viktor." Her father said. "We've heard a lot about you."

"Congratulations on winning the Cup," her mother added.

Viktor winced. "I have little pride in that."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, of course! I am so sorry... Er, would you like me to lead you to your room?" 

Viktor nodded. "Of course, Mrs. Granger." 

Hermione was left by the doorway with her father, who had a curious look on his face.

"Is he... very _bright_ , Hermione?" He asked carefully. 

"Father!" She cried. More softly, she added, "There's just some cultural and language barriers."

"Oh, does that explain why he was on the floor stroking the carpet?" He asked her sternly. 

"Most wizards haven't seen a carpet, dad! Just give him a chance." She whispered. 

He frowned. "I just want to make sure this is a good decision on your part."

She rolled her eyes. "It's just a carpet! Nothing to make a snap decision on. He has a lot to learn, yes, but--" She broke off and sighed. "Just wait. He's brilliant."

"We'll see," he mumbled. 

From upstairs, they could hear Viktor's excited cry of, "There is a _lever_? For the light?"

Hermione shook her head and sighed. "Please, Dad. Be patient with him."

He exhaled deeply, and went to assist his wife upstairs. Hermione watched him go, unsure of what to do or say. 

At least she didn't have to worry about _Viktor_ judging her. 

* * *

Hermione's family was wonderful. Viktor was having some of the best time in his life, and he wasn't even playing Quidditch.

It had only been a few days, but he was learning so much it felt like longer. For example, Mr. Granger had explained to him how muggle electricity worked, which was why they didn't need magic to cook their food or have lights.

He didn't really get it, but he told Mr. Granger that he would not get it if he tried to explain to him how magic worked. Apparently, Hermione had already tried to teach them.

Hermione had also shown him bicycles, which he saw muggles riding all around whenever she took him to London. 

He hadn't had a single nightmare since coming. Just knowing that he would see Hermione when he got out of bed in the morning helped tremendously, especially to fight off the Dark thoughts in his head.  

He didn't even mind when she sat him down to study or talk about career options. She kept on telling him he needed to come up with something else besides Quidditch, in case that ended up "falling through."

And sometimes she didn't want to talk, which was alright. That was what he liked about her. She thought a lot, and she was a good listener.

"It is such a beautiful day out," he told her. "If ve had brooms, we could go flying. Vot about the by-sickles?" He asked her while she was reading. 

"We tried this morning. I need to finish this book, Viktor." She sighed, not looking up. 

"Fine. I watch you." He said, proud that he made the proper _w_ sound. Mrs. Granger, who said she was a tooth expert, tried to tell him the proper place to put his tongue when he said it. It sounded wrong, but not to them.

"No, Viktor." She groaned. "I need to focus. Why don't you go talk to my father about Quidditch?" 

He shrugged. "If you like. Are you tired of me, Hermione?" He asked, carefully.

She set her book down. "No! No, Viktor, of course not!" She cried. "I just need a little bit of space sometimes. I'm not used to having to... To host someone all the time." 

"Oh." He said. That made sense. It was part of why she was who she was, and he was going to be okay with that. "I go talk to your father, then." He nodded, getting up to leave.

"Thank you for understanding," she said.

"Thank you for being." He replied, heading down the stairs.

Mr. Granger was sitting at the table, reading _The Prophet._ Viktor thought the English newspapers were silly. They hardly spoke the truth--for example, about him. Or about Voldemort.

"Oh, hullo, Viktor." He said. "Care to sit? I've got grapes here if you'd like some." He added.

Viktor sat down and took one of the sweet fruits. "We do not have sweet things like this in Bulgaria often. It is good."

Mr. Granger laughed. "You don't have much of anything there, do you?"

Viktor shrugged. "We have trees and animals. And more strong alcohol."

His eyes widened. "Well, do abstain from it around my daughter." He frowned, and Viktor knew enough fathers to know what was coming next. 

"What are your plans with my daughter, Viktor?" He asked him.

Viktor smiled. "Plans are for people stupid enough to think things will go their way. I am with Hermione for as long as she wants me." 

He didn't know how long that would be. She was plenty capable of being happy without him, he knew.

Mr. Granger looked at him curiously. "Smart boy." He mumbled. "It's these strong women in charge of the relationship, isn't it?" He asked. 

Viktor laughed. "Hermione is very strong." He stopped smiling, and added gravely, "But I still beat her at Quidditch if she ever tries."

Mr. Granger's jaw dropped, as if he didn't know what to say. 

"I joke, Mr. Granger. I do not think your little girl will ever try to play." He said, knocking his fist on the table. "You want to know about Quidditch?"

Mr. Granger shook his head, setting down his newspaper. "No, thank you. I read enough about it in these papers." He grumbled, looking sourly at the front page. "But you know what I don't read about, Viktor? Voldemort."

Viktor's heart sped up, and he didn't know quite why. "Y-you vont to know about the Dark Lord?" He asked, feeling his accent grow thicker. He could not control it when he was nervous.

"I think I do." Mr. Granger said quietly. "Hermione thinks he's quite a threat, and yet I haven't heard a whisper of him in the wizarding media."

"He is very bad." Viktor whispered. "But he is very... How do you say..." He closed his eyes. "He promises many things, but I do not know if he lies or not." 

"Did he promise you anything, Viktor?" Mr. Granger asked.

Viktor felt a pulsing inside of his head, like a very bad headache. He remembered the graveyard, and he didn't want to talk about it. What Voldemort had told him.... It was for his ears alone. 

But he could not lie. Viktor was not like Voldemort.

"He promises every wizard. Power, fame, glory. You know how it is." He whispered. "He spoke to me, and the things he made me think..." Viktor shuddered. "Hermione keeps me sane." He added for good measure.

"I am glad to hear that." Mr. Granger mumbled. "But how did he speak to you, if he is dead? The papers say he's dead. Harry Potter killed him."

"Ask Hermione." Viktor grumbled. "She is smarter than me. I only know I heard him, and felt his magic. Like, ah... I do not have the words." He shook his head.

"What was it like?" Mr. Granger asked.

Viktor shifted in his seat. "I do not like this." He announced. "We talk about Quidditch now."

Mr. Granger groaned.

"Do you know how the broom is made? I tell you."

And so it went.

* * *

 Ron was miserable. Harry had been back with them (well, more Cedric than anyone, really) for a week now, and it was nothing like he had expected. The entire summer had started to seem like a blow, really. 

First, he hardly ever _saw_ Harry, and when he did, Cedric was around. Second, he felt like he actually saw Cedric more than he saw Harry. Third, he knew now more than ever the dirty details of Harry's love life, and he didn't like imagining it. 

The list went on to things other than just his disdain for Cedric. For example, the twins were constanrly apparating all around the house, inventing new pranks all the time. He was more the victim of these than anyone, and the twins never let him in on the pranks.

His mother didn't even try to stop them. She was too busy whispering about politics with his dad, or getting chummy with Mrs. Diggory.

So, feeling a bit lost, he put all of this into a letter to Hermione the night after he had gone for a solo fly on his broom and flown above Harry and Cedric who were caught up with--well, he really didn't like to think what they had been caught up with. 

He told Hermione about that, too. He didn't really think it was right that the two couldn't keep their bloody hands off each other. Didn't they ever get sick of each other's company?

He wondered if she was still talking to Krum. He knew she wouldn't go to Bulgaria with him--knowing her, it would interfere with her summer study plans. He hoped she broke Krum's heart.

But, the thing was, he didn't know why he hoped that. So he didn't tell her that. 

He eagerly awaited her response, which came timely as usual, the next day. 

_Dear Ron,_

_Oh, I am so happy to hear that Harry is with you! How did that happen? Was it something to do with the Dursleys? Is he alright?_

_And while I think it's a good idea to spend more time with Cedric, I am sorry you feel so left out. Have you tried talking to them about it? I'm sure Harry would understand. He cares about you, because you're his best friend._

_I don't know how those two do it-- from the sound of it, they never leave each other's side! I would die if I had to have that with Viktor, as lovely as he is._

_Oh! I forgot to tell you. Viktor has come to stay with my family! He is so funny; he never seems to grow tired of learning about muggle things. I really did miss him, as annoying as he can be. I just had to tell him to go talk to my father, I was growing so tired of his hovering._

_How would you feel if Viktor and I came to visit? Then perhaps you wouldn't be so annoyed with Cedric--though I can't see why, he isn't that bad. And he makes Harry so happy._

_I think we should come visit soon, anyhow. Harry's birthday is coming up! Isn't it exciting? Is your family planning a party? Or is Cedric?_

_Anyway, in the mean time, I think you should talk to Harry about this. I really do think he will understand._

_Best of luck,_

_Hermione_

He set the letter down with a scowl of disappointment. So, she was with Krum. And she wasn't sympathizing with him.

He knew one thing, though. He hated Krum more than Cedric. He missed Hermione, too.

Yes. He wanted her to visit.

He also thought he would talk to his parents about throwing a surprise party for Harry. He would like that. 

He would also have to talk to Harry--

"Who's the letter from?" 

Ron looked up, and saw Harry standing in his doorway. 

"Hermione." He replied. "Why? And what do you want?"

Harry shrugged, knitting his eyebrows. "You've kinda been avoiding me. Is something wrong?" He asked.

"Avoiding you?" Ron scoffed. Was Harry really so thick? "You've been avoiding me!" 

Harry shook his head. "Not true! I'm here all the time, and you hardly ever talk to me. Half the time you just walk away." 

Ron rolled his eyes. "Because you're constantly draped over Diggory! It's disgusting!" He exclaimed angrily.

Harry closed his eyes. "I thought that was it." He sighed and pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Well, that's why I told Cedric to have his friend Alfred over. They're busy. Do you want to play chess?"

Ron suddenly felt terrible stupid for being such a prat. Harry didn't even get mad at him.

"Yeah, let's." He said, getting up and finding his set. As an afterthought, he added, "What would you think of Hermione coming to visit?"

"That would be great!" Harry agreed happily. "Is she?"

"I hope so. She's bringing Krum with her if she is, though." Ron mumbled moodily.

"That's fantastic! I need to talk to him about a few things..." 

"Like what?"

"Voldemort. My scar's been acting up lately. I haven't really mentioned it to anyone, though." Harry confessed, sitting down and crossing his legs. 

"Bloody hell, Harry, why not?" Ron demanded. "Go tell my parents!"

Harry started. "You think?"

"Obviously. After a few games, though."

He wasn't losing his best friend quite yet, not after he had just sat him down for a game of chess. They could worry about Dark Lords later. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Yaxley was tired.

He was also going mad.

He didn't know how Wormtail had done it, taking care of this 'little bundle of joy.' It was demanding, screaming, whispering, and.... Hungry. Always hungry. 

Grey, small, and shrivelled, the infantile form of the Dark Lord Voldemort was a plague to his life. He wished that Malfoy had taken it, but no, Malfoy didn't take anything other than exactly what he wanted. 

So it was Yaxley who took care of it. Yaxley who acquired food for it. Yaxley who stuffed sustenance into its slimy grey mouth. Yaxley who cleaned it of its own excretions, which smelled like death and decay and flobberworms.

It had taken away his _life_. It pulled him from his politics, his money, even his family. Yaxley had nothing but a whispering, screaming bundle of rags that craved flesh and souls.

And where was Malfoy? Probably relaxing in clean robes while he ate roast goose and conversed with his son. Or making love to his wife. Or engaging in some exciting, backstage political deal. 

Anything better than feeding this thing cut up human flesh. He had killed over a dozen people so far in an effort to sustain his Lord, who fed off of their souls and flesh and blood. His home now stank for it, filled with rotting corpses and entrails.

But he had to listen to the book. The book that had been on Wormtail's dead body, that explained how his Lord could be risen. 

Regardless, it was hard work. His only solace that he was winning the Dark Lord's favor--everyone else was too cowardly to join him at the graveyard. Yaxley reminded himself and the Dark Lord of this daily. 

"And, and Malfoy..." He cackled. "He did nothing but betray us, my Lord. He did nothing but sit back and watch as Fenrir was pulled away, nothing but hand me your weakened form and say 'go.' And he does nothing now, I'm sure. It is only me, my Lord."

The bundle only screamed.

"Only I know how to bring you back. Only I can revive you."

It was all that kept him going.

* * *

Lucius' bones ached from the cold. It was summer, yet the night was draped in fog, and the waxing gibbous moon dim. It was freezing, and he refused to admit it was from age. 

He was waiting for the werewolf, Ardfyn. He would come with a list of allies, and then Lucius would divulge his plan. 

Only after a few drops of a special variety of truth serum of his own making, of course. It would not only force Ardfyn not to lie, but it would also reveal his true character. It was far enough from the full moon that he could constrain Ardfyn, shoups he prove to be violent. There was still a week and one day yet. 

Along with the liquid truth (or transparency, as he liked to call it), he had  a bottle of Wolfsbane that was enchanted so that the rest of the pack wouldn't see him drink it, if it were necessary. Should Ardfyn comply to his terms, he would be given it so he could feel enough solace to return to his "family." 

And he might as well run off to them as soon as this meeting was over. Lucius knew werewolves broke apart the final week until transformation, growing edgy and bitter. He could easily slip away to his loved ones. 

Only for his heart to be broken, that is. Lucius had not forgotten the bitterness he had seen in the wife and daughter's eyes. They  hated Phillip Ardwyn with a passion only the clinically insane could manage. At best, Ardwyn could put them into St. Mungo's and visit occasionally.

It might do him well to join them permanently. Who knows what trauma he could have, between devouring his own son and joining a pack? Dreadful, it was. Even Lucius couldn't imagine such horrendous acts--and he was a man who was no stranger to murder and torture. 

But one's own child? Disgusting. 

There was a rustle in the trees, and Phillip Ardfyn ghosted out of the fog. 

"Are you alone?" Lucius asked him, shamelessly thinking the man looked less filthy than ever in the darkness. Shadow and deceit suited him well, and it complimented the mad glint in his eyes as he drew closer.

"Yes." Ardfyn told him. "The rest of the pack has already dispersed. This full moon will be intense." He shuddered, and Lucius thought it might be from the cold rather than disgust. The man looked more wolfish than he had before. 

"I have brought the Wolfsbane. But I must ask you to take Veritaserum before we begin." Lucius warned him, pulling the small clear vial out of his pocket.

"Of course, Malfoy." Ardfyn replied, opening his mouth and holding out his tongue. 

Lucius grimaced, and gingerly allowed six drops to fall onto the werewolf's tongue. He quickly recoiled, and the tongue was drawn back into its proper place.

"Ask me anything."

"What is your name?" He asked, following standard procedure.

"Phillip Ardfyn Redpaw." Ardfyn said, wincing as if he had not expected his wolf name to be spoken as well. It faded, however, the Veritaserum making him deadpan and blank.

"Are you here alone?" Lucius repeated. "Has anyone followed you?" He had to be sure. The fog was throwing him off and dulling his senses.

"It's just you and I, Malfoy." Ardfyn told him, taking a few steps back to lean against a fully-leaved tree. 

"Can I trust you?" Lucius pressed, glaring hard at the half-breed.

"Of course. I'm under Veritaserum."

"But are you loyal to me? Will you carry out the task I ask of you?" He demanded, checking his temper and making sure his wand was in reach. 

"I will do as you ask, as long as you tell me what you need."

Lucius paused. "Have your motives changed?"

"Yes."

"What are they?"

"I don't know."

Lucius frowned. What a bizarre answer; usually the serum uncovered the truth, but perhaps Ardfyn didn't _know_ the truth? He pushed the thought aside, deciding to carry on so he could get out of the cold. 

"Do you wish to have Fenrir freed?" He inquired. 

"No!" The answer came quick, coherent. 

"Do the others?"

"No, not that I know of. He is too focused on the Wizards for their liking. They wish to have a leader unlike Greyback or Blindeye."

Lucius frowned. Of course, he expected the beasts to have their own agenda... But without a leader to manipulate, what could he do?

"Do you still wish to be reunited with your family? And the Wolfsbane?" 

"Yes. I must see my family," Ardfyn whispered. "But not now. I do not want the Wolfsbane yet."

Lucius was now completely perturbed. But he decides to take a chance and press on with the plan.

"I can trust you. I will inform you of your task, and then you must relay it to the ones you-- _we_ \--can trust. Who are they?" Lucius interrogated, suddenly feeling an ache in his spine that made him wish he had brought his cane.

"Godwyn Alecksis, Ellon Yacobi, David Matterfeld, Faron Ashcob, and Winifred Green." 

"Excellent." Lucius smirked. He has six wolvea now. He just needed to meet the rest of them so he could learn to manipulate them. The one across from him now he was not so sure about--one without desire is one without resolve. 

"Listen, now." Lucius whispered to Ardfyn, whose blue eyes were still glasses over and glowing like a beast in the darkness and fog.

"Your Greyback waits in prison, as to many more of the Dark Lord's followers. I need you and the other wolves to take the Wolfsbane next full moon, and break into Azkaban. There, you must free the Death Eaters." He paused thoughtfully, waiting for Ardfyn's face to return to conscious expression. It would not come until the serum wore off, so he continued. "You will not be freeing Fenrir. I expect one of you to kill him. Will you kill him?"

"I would love to kill him." Ardfyn spat, with unexpected determination. "As would Godwyn."

Lucius nodded. "I was not expecting this, nor your sudden change in morals. But I believe we are done here." He hesitated, wondering if he should bring up the Ardfyn family. He decided against it, however. Instead, he said. "I'm afraid I must ask you to wait until the Veritaserum wears off before conversing with angone else. I cannot have you divulge our little secrets."

Ardfyn nodded, his face still blank. "Of course. Will you not wait with me?" 

Lucius scowled. "Forgive me if I choose not to wait in the cold and dark with a half-mad wolf." He spat.

Ardfyn's expression changed, if only because Lucius could see the madness and bloodlust of the wolf in his eyes. His voice remaines monotone, and he pulled himself from the tree and moved closer to Lucius. 

"Perhaps it is wise to leave," he whispered. "The wolf is strong within me this week, and I have never been of the tame variety. I have the growing desire to _bite_ something." His voice was hoarse and his eyes glowed with insanity. Lucius wondered what had broken him, or if he simply had not noticed before in the underground.

"I have heard stories." Lucius mumbled.

The werewolf licked his lips and stepped closer, barely inches from Lucius' face. "You are not quite unlike me, Malfoy. We are both filled with blood and lust--"

"I do not _lust_ ," Lucius spat. "Perhaps you mean bloodlust. But even so, we are very unalike." He flet frozen in place, a very rare fear building inside of him. This was a strong moon--the wolf was alive in this man, and he had fed it with his transparency serum.

"Ha." The wolf's breath spread all over Lucius' face, making him cringe. "No, I think I mean all three. As the moon draws closer, my senses heighten, my desires sharpen, my wolf comes alive. And my comrades have awakened me, Malfoy. I am no wizard." 

Disgust coiled in Lucius' gut as the half-breed cupped Lucius' face in his hand. 

"You will speak differently when you are back in your place." Lucius stuttered nervously. He had not expected this... This _invasion_ to result from giving him the potion.

The werewolf pulled a wand from his pocket. "And you will speak differently when fear does not triumph in your veins. You see that I am more than a wizard, more than a werewolf, don't you? Because I see it. Your little potion is making me feel the truth." His face moved toward's Lucius', and the wand tip was pressed against his neck.

He was far to close now. Lucius wanted to die. But fear prevailed, and he did not move. He regretted giving the man the potion, because it revealed the wolf in him more than anything. 

Lucius was about to say something-- _anything_ \--to keep the werewolf from moving any closer to his face, to keep the wand from casting any spell, to keep the werewolf's other hand from going any lower than it was heading. 

All of a sudden, the face that was a centimeter away from his snapped, and the werewolf gave way to Ardfyn, who fell backwards with a gasp. He landed on the ground and proceeded to sob, curling into a fetal position. 

Lucius backed away, composing himself and trying his best not to hex his new "ally." He had endured worse for the Dark Lord in his early service, surely he could endure more now. He prided himself on his well-maintained state of indifference. He would not lose it now out of desire for petty revenge. 

"I'm one of them," Ardfyn gasped. "What was in that potion?"

Lucius grimaced. "The truth hurts, doesn't it?" He scoffed, resisting the urge to kick the grovelling man. "You are nothing like the retained pureblood you aspire to be, that you pretend you are. You are nothing more than an animal, driven by primal desire and emotion."

"Why?" Ardfyn demanded, sitting up. "Why would you do this to me?" His expression was broken, and Lucius couldn't help but feel proud that he had reattained the upper hand. 

"Because you will need to accept this part of you at a later time. I couldn't have you finding out in the middle of your mission, could I?" He sneered at the broken man beneath him. Better now than later. 

"But that means I can't go back to them." Ardfyn croaked. "It means they were right."

Lucius laughed coldly. "So now you can forget about them. Now you can devote yourself to a new purpose--one I will happily assist you with, should you help the Dark Lord via my plan."

The other man was silent for a long time before responding, eventually taking in a deep, shuddering breath. "I will get back to you. But expect my help."

Lucius nodded. "Excellent. Next time we meet, you will be on Wolfsbane. And do not expect to survive if you try and place your hands anywhere near my _private regions_ again." He hissed. 

"That wasn't me!" Ardfyn protested. "It won't happen again." 

"On the contrary, this isn't you. _That_ was. Soak on it, come to terms with it, channel it into your purpose, and keep _me_ out of it." Lucius ordered. 

He apparatus home before he could get a response, choosing to miss out on the werewolf's scream of despair. 

* * *

"How did it go?" 

Draco heard his mother's voice whisper to his father from behind the door to their room. He hadn't realized Lucius was home yet; he had been searching for Narcissa to show her a passage from a book he'd been reading. 

But he thought this might prove much more interesting, considering his father's tendency to connive in the shadows. And, of course, his recent promise to help revive the Dark Lord. 

"In terms of the plan? It went brilliantly. We have at least five of six werewolves to aid in the prison break. And as far as I know, none are devoted to Greyback or Blindeye." His father replied. 

Draco pressed his ear closer to the door, eager for more. 

"Excellent." Narcissa purred. "But, must you free Bellatrix? Her eccentricity--"

"Is excellent for the cause. She is very devoted to the Dark Lord, you must remember that." Lucius interrupted. 

Draco knew his mother didn't care about that. She was a better person than his father, or at least a stronger one. She never swore herself to Voldemort, though she didn't necessarily abstain from harsh or cruel acts. She had invented several curses meant for torture that she refused to teach Draco.

"Yes. But she lacks creativity." Narcissa countered. 

Draco heard a long, heaving sigh from his father. "Darling, I don't want to discuss your sister right now. The plan has been decided."

"What's wrong, Lucius? You seem a bit--shattered."

"Shattered? Narcissa, love, isn't that a bit extreme? I am in no way shattered!"

Draco wished he knew a way to listen better, because their voices were growing quiet, but their conversation more interesting. His father? Looking shattered?

"Tell me." Narcissa ordered. 

"You know how my truth serum can bring out _unpleasantries_ in people," Lucius groaned. 

"That is not how I quite recall it."

"Darling. This was different. I think this is the final time I use it, if every time my adversary turns into a lust-driven, repulsive homosexual." 

Something snapped inside of Draco. 

_Re...repulsive?_

He had to hear more. 

"Homosexual? Darling, that's hardly the word. Primal, perhaps, or sexually driven. I think it's clear that it has more to do with lust and general desire than explicit attraction." There was his mother, bluntly pragmatic as usual. 

"Yes, but... I don't see how I can stand being touched another time. All the potion has proven is that the urge to fuck wins out in the end."

Draco frowned. He had never heard his father cuss before, and he decided he didn't like the sound of it. He didn't like the sound of this conversation in general. 

"Then perhaps you should tweak the recipe. A little less doxy wing next time?" She suggested. 

Draco frowned. If it was his father's _special_  potion they were discussing, changing the doxy wings would have little effect. It would just weaken the potion. They would need something to soothe, like the unique chamomile strain in their garden. 

Draco wasn't supposed to know about this potion; he had found it in his father's notes. He hadn't heard about _these_ effects before...

"Perhaps. I will work on it. Regardless, I cringe at the idea of another man attempting to touch me again." 

"And I!" Narcissa laughed. "I shouldn't like to share."

There was a moment of silence followed by some kissing noises, and Draco gagged and decided it was time to leave. 

He padded away to return to his room. Of course he knew this would be a problem--he just had hoped it wouldn't. Now, all he needed was a way to conceal it. 

His father didn't need to know about any of this, and neither did anyone else. (Besides Pansy, of course, but she didn't count.) Draco just needed to grow up--no more visible distress when Potter was around, no more carelessly discussing it with Pansy in public... And, he would have to avoid trying to get Potter's attention.

He would have to get his revenge in much more secretive ways. He had to feed his anger more like his father did: behind a mask. No more childish outbursts or tantrums. 

And then he would be safe, hidden in a realm of masked darkness. 

_Like Father._

* * *

 

Phillip Ardfyn was, by far, feeling the most alive he ever had in his life. Thankfully, he had finally stopped sobbing, and he had come to his senses.

The potion has put him in a trance, and the first thought or action that came to mind would happen. It was as if all of his barriers had been stolen from him in those few fleeting moments, and he had been nothing but a beast of impulse. It was worse than his monthly transformation.

"This is me now." He whispered to himself.

He let the feelings of rage and betrayal wash over him--his frustration with Malfoy for feeding him the potion rushing into a slow fire of rage with himself for not seeing this sooner. 

Of course this was him. That is why he had murdered his own son, ripping him to shreds in his first transformation. Perhaps it hadn't been him before that first transformation, but it was too late. He had changed, and to fight that was to sentence himself to death. 

He realized what he wanted all at once, and he realized what had fueled Fenrir Greyback--whom he would be most eager to kill.

It was this rage, this blood lust, this desire and pleasure that came from the sheer power of _doing._ It all made sense to him--he was no longer a normal wizard. Why should he have to control himself like a wizard? _  
_

But equally exciting was the fact that he was not a wolf, either. He had the power of a wizard and the bloodlust of a wolf. He had the wild within him and the capability to blend with the civilized. 

He couldn't let himself fall to the desire for power like Fenrir Greyback, nor become soft and ignorant like Blindeye. No, he needed to be harsh, but vigilant. He needed to blend the part of him that was still that composed wizard with the part of him that was the wolf. 

No one would ever know. He would have to clean himself up, of course, and convince the Wizarding authorities that it had not been him who had murdered his son, but the werewolf who bit him. He would have to do something with his wife and daughter, of course... 

All in due time. He would spend this last week of the full moon relishing in the wild and the cold, and then he would bring himself back into society. A new man. 

A new werewolf. 

After his hunt with Godwyn, of course. She would not be happy with his plan to play into the wizard world and abandon her lovely ideal of a forest pack, but that was never him. The wild was there, but at his core, he was built to be part of the structured world of the wizards. 

Which would provide him leverage in this little game. He was eager for revenge on Lucius Malfoy, for his demeaning words and his pompous disgust. Ardfyn would show him, he would. 

He could happily put to use his _Obliviation_ skills on Mr. Malfoy, once he had gotten what he wanted. 

What did he want, though? It would take some thinking. 

_Something on the inside. Where I can hurt them all._


	6. Chapter 6

"Remus!" He cried gleefully. "Come take a look at this!" He picked up the letter, written in posh Ministry calligraphy, and read it again. 

"A minute!" Remus called back at him from the floor above.

"No!" Sirius protested. "No more minutes! Get down here this instant!" 

He heard the clatter of footsteps, and Remus hurried down the stairs. He appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, a sight to behold with shower-soaked hair and an untied robe leaving little to imagination.

"Well." Sirius murmured, raising his eyebrows. "Haven't seen that in a while."

Remus scowled and hastily closed his robes and cast a drying charm on himself. "What is it?" He demanded, stalking over to the table, where Sirius had schartered the morning mail.

"Read it." He ordered, passing him the letter.

"Mr. Sirius Black," Remus read. "New information has been uncovered regarding the circumstances of your case, after the recent death of Peter Pettigrew. The Ministry should like to offer you a full and fair trial to prove your innocence." His voice trailed off to a whisper. "Regards, Albus Dumbledore."

Sirius beamed, standing up and wrapping Remus into a tight hug. "Can you believe it?" He asked, clapping his long-time friend on the back and breaking away. "I could kiss you!" He cried, holding him by his shoulders at arm's length.

Remus blushed. "Well, this certainly calls for celebration." He agreed, grinning sheepishly.

Sirius smirked and gave Remus _la bise_ on either cheek with a loud smack, unsure how he would have reacted had he kissed him on the lips. Sirius wouldn't have minded at all, and at one point, long ago, Remus wouldn't have either...

But things change. And he wasn't going to risk anything. 

"What's in the red envelope?" Remus asked, reaching around Sirius to snatch it off the table. "From the Weasley's..." He murmured, opening it and pulling the card out. 

Sirius dipped behind him to read over his shoulder. "We are invited to Harry's surprise birthday party, eh?" He asked, momemtarily resting his chin on Remus' shoulder. "Looks a bit early. It's in three days. And the thirty-first isn't for another ten, is it?"

"There's a note." Remus muttered, unfolding the little piece of paper. "Harry's been staying with Cedric, and partly the Weasley's, for two weeks now. He must be having fun to have forgotten to write us about it." He chuckled. 

Sirius backed away. "Cedric? His boyfriend?" He inquired, pausing thoughtfully. "As his godfather, can I morally condone that?" 

Remus scoffed. "Dumbledore has more say over that than you, at least until this hearing he has apparently set up for you." He reminded him. "Besides, wouldn't you have loved such an opportunity as a teenager? To spend the summer with your girlfriend?"

Sirius averted his gaze and snatched the paper away, thinking glumly that all through his teenage years he had been tainted by living with his desired _boy_ friend. And he was dealing with it now, too.

"Hmm. I suppose Harry is more trustworthy than I am," he murmured, scanning over the note. 

Remus pulled up a chair and sat down. "What do you think of those two? Cedric and Harry?" 

Sirius shrugged, sitting down next to him. "Harry wrote to me often about him, He seems quite taken with him, and happy, too. Not to mention the way they look together in those _Prophet_ photos." He chuckled, remembering his initial shock that December to see his godson passionately kissing the other Champion. He had thought it was a joke until Harry had told him about it.

"What do you think, Moony?" He asked.

Remus' face remained unchanging. "I think they're terribly brave. Can you imagine what would happen of two boys had been out when we were in school?" He inquired absently. 

Sirius swallowed, trying not to stare too intently into Remus' glinting eyes. "I've thought about it a lot, actually." He swallowed. "It wouldn't have worked out back then, would it? The timing just wasn't right."

Remus looked up, somehow sensing the double meaning in Sirius' words. "Perhaps not. But things have changed, haven't they?" He inquired. 

Sirius bit his lip as he focused on Remus' lips, looking clean and soft after his recent shower. 

"They have." He gulped. "But what does that mean to us, anyhow? At least Harry's--"

"Sirius." Remus interrupted him. "You can be extremely daft sometimes."

He wondered if Remus meant what he thought he meant by that. There were only so many ways to find out, he decided.

"How am I being daft?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"By avoiding the subject." Remus grumbled. 

Sirius didn't respond. He felt a little awestruck, and found himself staring.

"Or perhaps I'm just exhausted, and babbling, and there is no subject to--"

Sirius cut him off, placing a hand on his arm. "There is a subject to discuss." He admitted quietly. "And as much as I would love to discuss it, we've bigger things on our plate. Like my hearing. Or the Order. Or Harry's birthday."

Remus shrugged him off. "Oh, bigger things, I understand." He spat. "The same thing you said last time we tried to breach the topic, am I wrong? And then, before we couls even _say_ anything, you were carted off to Azkaban!"

Sirius flinched. "I know. I remember. I thought about it a lot, Remus, I did--"

Remus turned away from him. "Thought about what, exactly? Or are you too afraid to say it?" He hissed provocatively, standing up. "We're not getting any younger, _Padfoot_. And I dare say this is a good a time as any to say it."

Sirius' eyes widened. "What do you want me to say? Because your words suggest something different than your recent attitude towards me," he murmured, thinking about Remus' avoidance to touch or advance. 

"And your actions contradict your words!" Remus cried. "I can't have you coming near me without the confirmation that you're touching me for a reason."

Sirius stood up as well. "And I can't say anything until you prove that there's a hope for me if I say it!" He cried. "You don't even look back at me! You used to look at me, before Azkaban."

Remus spun back on him. "This has nothing to do with Azkaban. Haven't I proved it just now? Say something!" 

Sirius set his jaw. "I'm not ready, Remus." He whispered. "And it's not your fault."

Remus sighed. "Nor yours." He turned his cheek away. "I better head to Diagon and find Harry a gift." He said quietly, walking away. 

When he was gone, Sirius kicked the wall as hard as he could. 

"Dammit!" He hissed, ignoring the throbbing in his foot.

The regret inside of him hurt more.

* * *

Cedric sat at the edge of Harry's bed. It was five in the morning, and Harry wouldn't be awake for another few hours, especially with the sleeping potion he had been given a night before. 

Cedric gave it to him as a precaution. He didn't want him waking up and following him to the Weasley's before the party was ready. He also didn't want any nightmares to ruin his sleep the night before his big day.

Of course, the party _was_ a bit early compared to Harry's actual birth date. But it was all to catch Harry off guard and surprise him. It had been Ron's idea, and Cedric had commended him for it. The entire party had been prompted by Ron, he knew. He had even gotten Harry's friend Hermione to to come. 

And Krum, with whom Harry would undoubtedly want to speak with about Voldemort. Not that he hadn't already wrung that story dry. Cedric was worried about Harry's obsessive fear. 

_But wouldn't I have the same had I been born with the task of defeating him?_

Cedric sighed and leaned over to kiss the forehead of sleeping Harry. Brave, young, Harry. He hardly stirred, knocked out cold by the potion he had been given.

He tiptoed out of Harry's room and down the stairs. He whispered a goodbye to his parents, who were just barely awake by the fireplace sipping coffee. 

"Just keep him from going anywhere or asking questions. The party has to be a surprise," he reminded them, slipping out the door. 

His broom waited for him, and he mounted it and soared quickly over the hills to the Burrow. It looked completely normal from the outside, or as normal as the crooked tower-like home could be. It looked different in the grey of the predawn light, as did the rest of the surroundings. The morning felt clean, alive. Cedric decided he would get up early more often. 

He reached the front door and got off his broom, propping it by the door and knocking. In a few moments, a sleepy-eyed Ginny answered the door. 

"Oh. You're here already. Brilliant." She mumbled, swinging the door open. "I was hoping you might be Hermione. There's too many boys around here." She added with a scoff. 

"Sorry," Cedric replied, stepping into the house and immediately smelling the sweet scents of sugary confections being made. "How goes the preparation?"

Ginny yawned. "Dunno. I just woke up. Mum probably wants my help, though--I'm the only one smart enough not to eat half the batter." She scratched her head and turned around. "See you, Diggory."

"See you." Cedric answered, entering into the main room of the house, where most of the decorating was happening. Already, it was looking very festive. 

Shimmering red and gold streamers hung from the ceiling, and the color theme continued with the wrapped gifts strewn about the floor. He saw Mr. Weasley carefully strewing the streamers about with his wand.

"Good morning, Cedric." He said, setting down his wand. "You're here awful early. Even Ron isn't up yet."

Cedric crossed over to face the man, who looked surprisingly well kept considering the early time. He was glowing with excitement, as Cedric was, too.

"I wanted to help out before Harry arrives," he explained. "Make sure everything's put together before he decides to come over."

Mr. Weasley shrugged. "Brilliant. We haven't much to do anymore; perhaps you could help the twins? They've been up all night working on something." 

"Sure." Cedric agreed. "When will the others come, you reckon?" He asked, looking around.

"I've no idea. Hopefully before noon." Mr. Weasley replied. "Certainly Hermione will be early. But knowing Sirius... Well, he and Remus will be along later, I think." 

Cedric nodded. "Have they been living together, then? Harry used to write to them separately at school," he commented. 

Mr. Weasley sighed. "I have no idea what those two are up to," he admitted, "though I think that they've been cohabitating. I don't blame them. Grimmauld Place is terribly lonely."

"Grimmauld Place?" Cedric inquired. 

"I've said too much," Mr. Weasley whispered. "You'll know soon enough, though. Go off and help the twins with their project. And have Harry here after nine." 

Cedric nodded. "Alright, Mr. Weasley. Thank you."

* * *

Harry woke in slow, groggy stages. It took him several minutes and a few blinks to realize Cedric was sitting next to him. 

"Sleep well?" 

Harry groaned, rolling over. "I guess so," he grumbled. "What time is it?"

"Eight-thirty." Cedric informed him. "You slept in a bit, but that's alright." 

"Nnnghh." Harry sat up and groaned. "I didn't dream at all. It was brilliant."

Cedric laughed at him. "I'm so glad. Hopefully you'll have plenty more peaceful nights to come."

"Yeah." Harry mumbled, slowly making his way out of bed. "How long have you been up?" 

Cedric, completely dressed and groomed, shrugged. "A few hours. I went for a lovely broom ride. The sunrise was nice." 

"You should have woken me up," Harry told him, pulling off his shirt and changing into something cleaner. "That would've been nice."

Cedric got off his bed and stood up. "Another day, then. You just looked so peaceful--how could I wake you?"

"Sap." Harry teased, balling up his dirty shirt and chucking it at Cedric. "Got any plans for us today? I think you ought to make it up to me for making me miss a lovely sunrise." 

Cedric rolled his eyes. "Yes, because you would have thanked me for waking you at five in the morning."

"Perhaps!"

"Whatever, Harry." Cedric grumbled, coming closer and kissing him good-morning. "I was just thinking we might go to the Weasley's today. I'm sure Molly would have plenty of breakfast ready." 

Harry paused thoughtfully, thinking breakfast at the Weasley's sounded remarkable. He wouldn't tell Cedric it, but he was growing tired of Mrs. Diggory's cooking. She was a bit of a health fanatic, and every dish she made was mostly comprised of greens from het garden. 

"Yes, why don't we?" He said. "Let me wash up and we'll head over." 

He stepped away from Cedric and made his way to the toilet, getting ready as quickly as he could. 

In a few minutes, he was down the stairs, where Cedric waited for him. "Come on!" He teased. "We can't miss breakfast, can we? Let's take our brooms." 

Harry supposed this was to make up for both lost time, and the fact Cedric had neglected to invite him earlier. He eagerly agreed, following Cedric out into the bright, clear morning. 

They mounted their brooms and were soon part of that blue sky. Harry was in no hurry once he was up, and began looping in lazy spirals high up in the air. 

"Having fun?" Cedric called up to him, flying straight up to join. 

"It's a nice morning!" Harry replied, spinning a silly circle around Cedric. "And you always look so nice in a broom."

Cedric chuckled. "Come on, you flirt! We're almost there." He tilted his broom down, and sped towards the Burrow. Harry followed suit. 

They landed soon after, and Cedric led him to the door. Instead of knocking, he just held it open for Hatry. "After you," he insisted. 

Harry didn't care either way. He went into the house, which was strangely quiet. 

"Hullo?" He called, his senses prickling. "Anybody home?"

No response. 

"I'm sure they're around somewhere." Cedric assured him, taking his arm. 

Harry frowned, but he pressed on into the living room. "Anybody--"

He broke off, finding the room swathed with red and gold, and filled with Weasley's. He jumped when they all shouted, "Surprise!"

There was a chorus of "Happy Birthday" and Harry realized that there was more than just Weasley's. He was delighted to see Hermione and Viktor in the group, as well as--

"Remus!" He cried, running forward to wrap his favorite former professor and werewolf in a hug. "You're here! You're all here!" He laughed, turning to greet Hermione and Viktor. 

"It was Ron's idea," Hermione told him with a genuine smile. "Viktor wanted to see you, anyway."

"Hello, Harry." Viktor said, offering his hand. "You look much happier than last time we meet."

"Aren't we all?" Cedric joined in from behind, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders. 

"Let's remember that!" Mr. Weasly announced. "No need to dwell on what happened last."

There was a chorus of agreement. Ron then popped up and greeted Harry excitedly. 

"Do you like it?" He asked. "We got up dreadfully early to prepare." He explained.

"I love it!" Harry cried, glancling around the room and it's Gryffindor colors. "I don't think I've ever had a proper birthday party before," he added, smiling sheepishly. 

"For shame!" Fred cried. 

"But of course, that is why Fred and I stayed up all night planning. We have a surprise once the sun goes down." George announced, waggling his eyebrows. 

"You'll love it." Cedric confirmed. 

Mrs. Weasley clapped her hands. "Let's all sit down to breakfast, shall we?" She asked. "Then Harry can open presents!"

Harry blushed, but sat down at the table between Cedric and Ron. He saw several wrapped gifts stacked around the table, and he couldn't believe that they were all for him. 

Breakfast was excellent--not a green thing to be found. He stuffed himself on meats and potatoes with a gusto only rivaled by Ron, and perhaps Viktor. Cedric cut at his food with more reserve and etiquette. 

After that, Mrs. Weasley presented him with cake and other sweets, which he couldn't finish before the others decided it was time to open gifts. 

He had gotten a set of robes from the Weasley's and a book from Hermione when the floo turned green and vomited out the one person Harry had been wondering about. 

"Sirius!" He cried, standing up to greet his godfather with a hug. "You're not in hiding!" 

Sirius laughed and hugged him back. "Well, not for today," he assured him. "But next month I go to a hearing. It looks like I've got my innocence." 

Harry smiled delightedly. "Brilliant, Sirius! Brilliant!" He ushered him to the table. "Sit down with us; I was just opening gifts."

The rest of the group greeted Sirius cheerfully, Cedric especially excited to finally meet the 'infamous Godfather Sirius.'

Harry opened the rest of the gifts-- a pocket watch from Ron and Ginny, a book on Defense and some strange silver instrument from Remus, and a box of canary creams from the twins. 

"We thought you might like to send it as a farewell gift to the Dursleys," they suggested with a wink.  

The day carried on, and Harry flitted between playing Quidditch with the other young people and catching up with Sirius and Remus and Hermione. He had to explain to them the entire situation with the Dursleys, as well as how things were going with Cedric. 

"How's your communication with him?" Remus asked him. 

"Moony, what does he know abiit communication? Stop being ridiculous," Sirius snapped. 

"I'm not being ridiculous! Would you prefer if I asked how often they touched each other?" Remus snapped. 

"Is everything alright?" Harry asked hesitantly, wondering what was going on between the two. 

"Fine." They both replied immediately, before Remus stalked away.

"It's just a little close to the full moon, I'm sure," Sirius told him. "Wolfsbane can only do so much." 

Harry frowned. "I suppose." 

Sirius nodded. "But you needn't worry about that. I suppose you're wondering about your gift, aren't you?"

"Actually, no," Harry confessed. "I'm still very satisfied with the Firebolt." 

Sirius chuckled. "It's just as well, then. You'll have to wait a few months yet to find out."

"Oh?" Harry inquired. 

"It's a surprise." Sirius whispered. "Now, go on. Your friends are waiting for you. The sun's going down." 

Harry looked up at the sky--indeed, it was darkening into a pale purple. Rosalba clouds dotted the horizon. On a nearby hill, Harry saw the twkns setting up some kind of apparatus. 

He found Cedric, who was already sitting down on the ground in front of the house. 

"You'll want to see this." Cedric assured him.

Harry sat down next to him, and they intertwined hands. "Why? What is it?"

"You'll see. Just wait till it's dark." Cedric instructed. 

Harry sighed. "Fine," he conceded, resting his head on Cedric's shoulder. "I've had a wonderful day."

"Good. But don't thank me--thank the Weasleys! I only drugged you and made sure you arrived on time." Cedric told him with a smirk. 

"You what?" Harry demanded. 

Cedric didn't answer, though, because Ron had shown up. He broke away from Harry and let the two friends to themselves. 

"Good match earlier, yeah?" Ron asked, referring to their mini Quidditch competition from earlier.

"Yeah." Harry agreed. "It's been a brilliant day. Thank you so much. You're the best friend I could've asked for." He told him earnestly.

"You think so?" Ron beamed. "I'm happy, then."

"Me, too."

"But I've been a bit of a git about Cedric, haven't I?" He continued. "I'm sorry that I've acted like I've hated him. I don't know what got into me."

"Its alright, mate," Hatry forgave him. "Thanks for apologizing."

Just then, the twins let out a whoop, and the sky burst into color.  Fireworks filled the sky, spelling out, _Happy Fifteenth, Harry!_ in every color imaginable. 

The twins shot another one into the air, and this time it was a red and gold lion. House pride, of course, was to be expected. 

Harry and Ron went to sit with the rest of the group, closest to Cedric and Hermione. They watched the rest of the firework show unfold, with fits if laughtee whenever the twins chose something ridiculous. 

Towards the end, the fireworks began to fly towards them and chase after them when they fled. Harry and Cedric were chased after by a Hungarian Horntail, while a fiery Cupid pursued Viktor and Hermione. In a cruel twist, Ron had to escape a giant blue and green spider. The adults were mostly left alone, but by the end of the night, everyone was exhausted and panting from laughter and excitement. 

Oncd the energy died down, Harry found himself saying his good byes and good nights. Remus and Sirius had seemed to cool down, and apparated away together after promising to see Harry soon. Viktor and Hermione would be staying for another two weeks with the Weasley's at least, and so he gave his thanks to the rest of them.

At the end, he and Cedric took to their brooms to head home. The stars were out and bright, and the hills were lit silver by the nearly full moon. Harry thought he liked this better than any dawn flying. 

He and Cedric rode close together, the only noise between them the soft rushing of the air and the crickets below them. The night was cool and alive, instilling a joyous feeling within Harry that he was unaccustomed to. 

They flew past Cedric's house, continuing until they reached the crest of a nearby hill. On some predetermined agreement, they landed there. 

For a while, they sat on the hill and felt the breeze and the grass in silence. The buzz of the wild night around them was soothing, and the space between them enough. 

After some time, Cedric chose to speak. 

"Where would I be without you?" He asked absently, sliding a hand across the grass between them to take Harry's. "I genuinely think I could have died. Who knows, with the Tournament and the Dark Lord?"

Harry exhaled deeply, inching closer to feel the comfort of Cedric's warm, breathing body. "I'd rather not think about that," he admitted. 

"You're right, neither do I." Cedric agreed quietly. 

Harry smiled. He didn't know quite why. Perhaps it was just gratitude. 

"I love you, you know." Cedric told him. "And I don't think I've said it before. Or, at least, not like this. I really mean it, Harry." He took a deep breath in. "I love you."

Harry made a small noise in relief, wondering if he had been waiting to hear that.

"I love you, too. Thank you for everything."

That was all else they needed to say that night. They got back on their brooms and made it home safely, quietly sneaking back home.

On another apparently predetermined agreement, Harry didn't go back to his guest room. He stayed with Cedric that night, and they did nothing more than sleep.

Harry stayed with him because he feared waking up from another nightmare where Cedric really had died in the Tournament. Because he didn't want to spoil such a beautiful day. 

He didn't want to spoil that perfect sense of peace. 

There would be plenty of time for that later. 


	7. Chapter 7

The wolf was alive in Ardfyn. The spring tide moon was just below he horizon, waiting to finally through the trees, calling on the part of him that was animal, hungry and violent and vile. He could not wait for it to reveal its silvery face, and for him to finally transform.

Because this time, he would truly be transforming. The other times, he had tried to prevent himself from turning, only to wake up when he was himself again full of shame and guilt. 

No, not this time. He would relish it this time. He almost wished he had taken the Wolfsbane, just so he could experience the transformation in complete awareness. But, then again, he didn't quite trust his conscious mind to go through with the ruthlessness of the hunt. 

No, he would experience this naturally. 

"Hurry!" Godwyn snapped. "I should like to reach our destination before moon rise."

He scowled at her as he nearly tripped over a bramble. "I'm coming." He snapped. 

"Just making sure," she called back. "I don't think you're as much of a pansy as you were before, but I can't make a mistake."

He caught up with her in a few strides, marching alongside her through the forest. 

"There is no mistake."

They reached the edge of the clearing in a few minutes. Beyond them, a small cabin puffed smoke into the air. The lights were on, and a young couple could be seen through the window. 

"We go for them first. Then the horses." Godwyn told him. 

"I'll remember to do that if I have any controll over myself," he scoffed, creeping into the clearing.

"You'll get there. It takes years of practice," Godwyn assured him. 

A small cry of, "Mum!" Came from within the cabin. 

"In the meanwhile, I'll leave the child to you. I want to see what that wolf of yours can do with it." She sneered, both of them now approaching the cabin. 

The familiar flame of guilt leapt within him, but before it could smolder or have any affect on him, he saw the moon. A frenzy took over his mind. All he could feel was bloodlust and anger and _pain_. How could he have forgotten about the pain?

Before his eyes, Godwyn transformed. Her eyes fixed on him, and she let out a growl. He felt a simultaneous urge to flee and attack, but he knew he only had to wait a few more moments...

_Crack, snap--_

His conscious mind blanked, and all that was left was the subliminal, primal mind of the wolf.  _  
_

And it wanted to feast. 

* * *

Lucius watched the full moon rise with contempt riding in his gut. Tonight, his werewolves would be running amok, causing complete chaos. How many ran with the pack tonight, and how many ran separate? What was Blindeye doing?

He wondered what they would do once they became humanoid again. Would they choose to turn against the All-Seer? Or would they stay close to him? 

He decided that it mattered little to him. For the moment, all he was concerned with was that they kept their plans quiet. In another month, he would give them all the Wolfsbane, and then set them to their task at Azkaban. 

"Malfoy, are you quite done?" Bulstrode asked, calling him back to his senses. "We're all here now. You may stop staring out the window."

Lucius turned back to him and glared, keeping his composure. "My apologies. My mind was elsewhere--that tends to happen when one has too many plans in the making."

Next to him, Narcissa scoffed. He took the seat beside her, grasping her hand and giving her a meaningful look. She frowned at him, but turned away. 

"I've called you all here to see if you still stand by my side." He said clearly, gazing about the room. In attendance, he saw the majority of the Dark Pureblood families in Britain. The only one worthy of noting that was missing representation was the Yaxley family, but he did not worry about them. He knew the position in which they stood, and he trusted them with the care of the Dark Lord's form. 

"Of course we do," Bulstrode spat. "Why wouldn't we?"

"Perhaps I should say _our_ side," Lucius elaborated. "How many of you still stand willing to fight for the Dark Lord?"

A hush filled the room, save for the rustling of fabric and movement as each in the room clutched at their Dark Marks out of habit. 

Parkinson cleared his throat. "Why do you ask, Lucius? Surely it is pointless--the Dark Lord is nothing more than a phantom now. Had he been able to return, he would have already."

Surprisingly, there was a murmur of agreement. Lucius felt rage bubble within him. 

"Oh, he shall return. Have you not felt it in your Mark?" He inquired, lifting back his sleeve to reveal his own. Its black stain seemed to swim and writhe beneath his skin, full of power and awakening.

Parkinson faltered. "That means nothing. He has not called for us; we have not seen him." He scowled, his face setting with determination. "I have just cleared my name to the Ministry; my family has a safe place in society--why should I re-swear my alliance to the Dark when I am safe, and you stand no chance of taking ground?" He demanded. 

Lucius raised his eyebrows, shocked with Parkinson's disloyalty. "Are there any other cowards amongst us? Traitors who so doubt the Dark Lord that they choose to continue bowing to our persecutors instead?" He inquired, glancing around the room.

Several people avoided his gaze with averted eyes and silence.

"Leave, then. I will not have anyone here who is not in _full support_ of our Lord." He spat, grimacing with disgust as more than half of the room got up to leave. 

"Fools!" He accused, watching them leave. "You will only be part of the power which you see, then? You doubt because he has not yet fully returned?" He shouted, gainning no response. "Well, you shall see! You will regret this, when the Dark Lord returns to us!"

Parkinson froze in the doorway on the way out, turning to face him. " _You_ are the fool, Lucius. You search blindly for power, yet you can only achieve it under another's name. You drown yourself in the power of _service_." 

Lucius scowled. He did not agree. By taking initiative, he was securing himself a place by the Dark Lord's side, a part of that power. Were he to wait for someone else to rise his Lord--well, that wouldn't do him any good, would it? 

He was not losing himself to service. No, people were serving him. The werewolves, for instance. Lucius was doing nothing but gain power for himself, and if he helped revive the Dark Lord along the way... All the better. 

When the room was cleared, Lucius turned to the remaining followers. 

"A pity." He sighed. "But I am grateful you have all retained your senses. Those of you who remain shall be rewarded by the Dark Lord."

A woman further away from him at the table met his eye. "And what of those in Azkaban for his service? Will they be rewarded also, from the comfort of their cells?" She demanded, a colorful fury swimming behind her eyes. Lucius remembered to be the wife of ome of the apprehended Death Eaters. She would like what he had to say next. 

"They shall be rewarded, yes. But not in their prison cells--they have stayed most loyal, have they not?" Lucius asked, a devilish smirk touching his lips. "I think it's time they be freed, don't you?"

An excited buzz filled the air. Had they all been younger and more reckless, they might have whooped. But they were composed, at a meeting, and the group only met each other with gleaming eyes.

"How shall we do it, then, Mr. Malfoy?" A young man asked. Lucius did not recognize him, but he looked similar to one of his fallen comrades. The boy looked thirsty for action, leaning into the table with a keen look on his face. 

Lucius smiled at him. It was good to have a young following. He hoped he could ask the same of his own son...

Or did he? He realized that Draco did not have his same tact or diomatic ability, and asking him to swear alliance to the Dark Lord might sentence him to a life of servitude. Did he want that for Draco? To make him a lackey instead of a leader?

He had raised him expecting the Dark Lord not to return, giving him skills to make his own way in the world. Now that Lucius had his master to serve again--

_Is that really it? Am I serving a master?_

He realized with a shock of horror that it was so. All these years of freedom, and he had fallen back into his old ways of needing a... A ruler. Could Lucius not lead himself? Why did he need the Dark Lord, anyhow? 

Because he was afraid, he realized. He knew Voldemort was returning, and he knew punishment would come his way for revoking the name of the Dark Lord. For claiming his service had been unwilling...

And now he was repenting. Bowing. 

"Mr. Malfoy?" The boy repeated. "Have you a plan?"

Bulstrode cleared his throat. "Are you alright, Lucius? You seem distracted."

Narcissa coughed lightly, and Lucius slid a hand under the table to grasp her knee in a silent _I'm aware._

"I am fine." He assured them. "I just got lost in envisioning the plan.  I have banded together a group of werewolves to break into Azkaban next full moon. We only need to transport them and return them--they can pass the Dementors." 

The boy looked disappointed, but piped up when he said, "I shall hemp with transporting them. Will we get them there before they transform?" 

Lucius shook his head. "Just as. Though, these are not the details of the plan I should like to go over."

The woman scowled. "Why? Do you not value those who gave their freedom for the cause?"

"Not at all. It is simply that I have already made the arrangement for their escape. There is another plan that I will need you for."

"What's that?" Someone at the end of the table, who had so far been among the many silent, spoke up. 

Lucius grinned, and Narcissa discreetly rolled her eyes. No one seemed to notice. 

"I think we need inspire fear in our enemies, don't you?" He asked them. 

There was a low chuckle from all of them, exchanging glances.

"What do you suggest?" The woman asked, leaning forward eagerly. 

Lucius took a long moment for dramatic effect. "I'm sure you all know of a certain figure that our Lord was trying to get to this past spring. Someone who, obviously, could cause quite a stir should something happen to him."

There were several murmurs, but there was one voice he should not have heard there. From a spot in the wall across from him came his son Draco's voice, filled with something Lucius fancied to be vehemence.

"Harry Potter." 

* * *

Rodyn could smell the foul unease and mistrust of his pack seeping out of them, smelling of putrid flesh. They thought they could hide it from them under the guise of exhaustion after the transformation, but they were wrong. His blind eyes saw all.

He felt the presence of his entire pack in the room. They were few, and perhaps not as formidable as when Fenrir was leading them, but Rodyn felt that under his rule, there should have been more moral stability.

From his perspective, there was hardly a war between wizards and werewolves. He did not trust them because of how they mistreated his kind, he hated them for their prejudice, and he could not see himself fighting for them. Especially not a wizard like Malfoy, who had no wishes but to subdue them and use them. 

But he did not want to eradicate them. He did not strive for werewolf supremacy. It was for that reason that most of his pack thought him weak. He personally thought it made him stronger. Unlike Greyback, he wouldn't go to extreme, unethical, irrational measures to get what he wanted. 

He understood that there was a difference between wizards and werewolves, and he knew that they could never be part of the same socitry again. For that reason, he found it unethical to go out of the way to make more werewolves. His focus was to have a place where the werewolves could go.

So, he was enraged when he smelled the blood of a young child on one of his pack mates. He could not tell who, but he would find out.

"Do you all despise me so much?" He asked them. "Are you so opposed to my beliefs that you should go out of your way to defy them?" He demanded.

There was a murmur of confusion. As if they didn't know what he was talking about. 

"Don't play fool with me. One of you has defied me." He faltered as he felt a shift in the air, a whispering of a correction. "No, twice." He hissed.

He sensed the tension rise, and he tried to get a feeling for where the guilt was centered. Who had turned the child? And what else had they done?

He zoned in on a less familiar aura. It was Ardfyn, he realized, a newer pack member, but something about him had changed. Gone were his layers of reason and consideration. Even his distinguishing shell of grief was gone. In its place was the frantic, buzzing armor of insanity, held onto an under layer of rage by the thick ropes of determination. Greed was draped over him like jewelry. Hunger for power was a crown over his head, dipping low and covering his eyes. Deep beneath, the purple flame of his natural aura shone through, but it was hidden beneath the new defenses.

The All-Seer did not let show that he saw his corruption. Instead, he looked around at the rest of them with his clouded eyes, seeing not their physical forms, but their spirits beneath. None had changed as Ardfyn had. They still wore their usual, modest cloaks of resentment and fear that he had grown used to. 

However, he spotted something new on five of them. Oaths, sworn to a leader other than him, rested on their wrists. 

 _Malfoy_ , he realized.

"What have you done?" He asked them. "What have you done to betray me? Why do you let your fear veil yourselves? If you despise me, then leave."

No one moved, not even the guilt laden Ardfyn.

"No? What is it that binds you here? If you wish to leave, then do so. Or else I shall call the six of you out, one by one." He snapped, wishing he could stare into their eyes instead of their souls. He wanted them to feel fear. 

There was a silent defiance building within them, whispering _Prove yourself._

"You all still doubt me, after all these years. I see your motives, each one of you." He said sharply. "Yacobi. Matterfeld. Green. Ashcob.... Alecksis? Why have you sworn yourselves to a wizard? Was it under the instruction of Ardfyn?" 

There was a deathly hush. "I am not wrong. I see your alliances on you, I see your leader. Tell me, Ardfyn, is this not so?" 

Rage flamed out of Ardfyn. "I have done nothing wrong."

"Nothing wrong? Perhaps not in dissuading your pack mates from me, but there is blood on you, Redpaw." He used the werewolf name now, speaking to him like an equal, an adversary. "You have bitten a child, again."

Had his grief still been part of Ardfyn, Rodyn thought he might have shattered. But now, he swelled, the insanity on him rattling in excitement. 

"And so I have! I have found my wolf, Blindeye, while you still sulk in fear. We grow tired of your apathy. There is a war growing, and you must take a side." Ardfyn growled, his followers mumbling in agreement.

"Do you know what you speak of? Which war do you see rising? Because it is not wizards versus werewolves. It is Dark wizards versus Light ones. And you have made yourselves pawns to the Dark through Malfoy." Rodyn told him, visions of destruction passing through his mind. From the time he had spent seeing the Dark Lord's spirit, he knew that the werewolves would not benefit from Voldemort's rule.

"Sat what you wish. Become pawns to the Light, and then we can fight." Ardfyn snapped. "We will leave, as you asked. Anything should be better than this hole."

Rodyn felt their auras distance as they stalked out of the room. It felt empty, now with half of his pack gone. The rest remained silent and unnerved, fearing for what this meant. 

"They are blind." Rodyn assured them. "Their own foolishness will bring their demise, and they will be part of the submissive masses they so despite. But us? We will fight for ourselves."

"This small group of us?" Spence asked. "We can fight no battles in such small numbers."

"We have allies elsewhere, who we can fight with. Not for," he clarified. "Ombur, Caft. Do you remember Remus Lupin?" He asked them. 

"Of course." Caft replied, her voice lilting with hope. 

"Always." Ombur answered, with nostalgia. 

"See if you can find what Ardfyn is planning. And then reach Lupin and warn him."

He would have to ally himself with the Light. He could not let the Dark Lord overpower him and his kind. 

Lupin would know how to help. He was... Well integrated with the Wizards. 

* * *

When Cedric had been imagining the secret meeting place of the Order of the Phoenix, he hadn't been expecting this. 

A dark mansion, filled with cobwebbs and strange paintings and old artifacts. The former House of Black, where Sirius Black currently resided, in half-hiding. Nothing like the noble, light-filled hall he had been imagining, but perhaps more discreet and well suited for its cause. 

Its members were also different tan he had anticipated. They were mostly all people he knew-- the Weasleys, Remus and Sirius, Dumbledore. There were some people he didn't know, but he was sure he would meet them later. 

For the time being, the "young ones" were ushered upstairs by Sirius. 

"You can come down for dinner once we've had a conversation," he assured Harry and Cedric, leading them into an upstairs room. "I presume you won't mind sharing a room?" He added, with what Cedric thought was a hint of mischief. 

"Of course not." Cedric affirmed, shamelessly taking the hand of a blushing Harry. He could imagine how it couled have been embarrassing for Harry, having his godfather tease him about such things. 

"Excellent." Sirius said. He pulled a note out of his pocket and handed it to Harry. "Happy actual birthday, by the way. See you both at dinner."

"See you," Harry said, staring down at the envelope. 

"And don't even think of eavesdropping!" Sirius shouted over his shoulder. 

Cedric chuckled to himself, and sat down on the bed in the room. Harry sat down next to him, still focused on the unopened envelope. 

"Well, open it." Cedric told him, leaning onto his shoulder and looping an arm around his waist. 

Harry shifted closer to him, ripping open the letter. It was a hand-scrawled message from Sirius. 

 

> _Harry (and Cedric, who is doubtlessly reading this too),_
> 
> _I'm sure you remember me mentioning at your party that I have an upcoming hearing to prove my innocence. Our conversation went into little depth on the subject._
> 
> _This is something I'm more comfortable writing, anyhow. We've spoken more through letter than words, it seems. Though I should very much like to change that._
> 
> _If I am legally cleared of charges, it changes several things. First, I am legally eligible to be your guardian. Second, I become the automatic heir, legally, of the Black fortune._
> 
> _Should this be the case, I would like to know if you would be willing to allow me to become your guardian. I understand it might be fun living with Cedric and Ron, but without the Dursleys, you have no legal guardian. Which is something that, as a minor, you do need._
> 
> _I would be honored if you would be willing to have me as your guardian. And, not to seem as though I am bribing you... You would become my heir._
> 
> _We can talk later._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Sirius_

Cedric blinked, reading over the letter again. Harry was completely still, breathing softly and in apparent disbelief. 

"Harry?" Cedric asked, nudging him softly. "You okay?"

Harry nodded, setting down the letter. "Fine. Just.... Just wow." He whispered, shaking his head. 

"It's a brilliant offer, Harry. Would you accept?" He asked, hoping that Harry would. Where else could he go? 

"It is." Harry agreed quietly. "Really generous of him. I mean, not that I hadn't thought of him taking me in before..." He murmured. 

"But now that the Dursley's have sent you away, its not like Dumbledore can do anything to send you back." Cedric finished for him.

"Yeah." Harry murmured. He blinked, and stared for a moment, as if in disbelief. "I'm going to have a hime with Sirius." He whispered, awestruck. Quickly, he spun to face Cedric, his feautures alight with joy. "I'm going to have a home. With Sirius!" He cried, his smile wider than Cedric thought he had ever seen it. 

He laughed in happiness for Harry, who then surprised him by suddenly pouncing on top of him, pinning him to the bed and shock his surprise with a smattering of glee-driven kisses. Cedric gave an "mmph," unused to but liking an enthusiastic, assertive Harry, and gave back with the kiss. 

After a little while, Harry stopped, propping himself up above Cedric's face. "This is the best birthday ever." He confessed with a foolish grin. 

Cedric pulled himself out from under Harry to sit up, who just moved to straddle his lap. He chuckled and said, "Happy birthday, then."

Harry gave no verbal response, choosing instead to give Cedric a series of quicker, more playful kisses on his mouth. It went on for minutes more when they were interrupted by a clearing of a throat at their door. 

"If you two are done sucking face," one of the twins said, "we've got a way to listen in on the meeting.

Harry rolled off of Cedric, not looking nearly as embarrassed as he thought he would. He crossed his arms and mumbled, "In a minute, George."

"How'd you know it was me, not Fred?"

Harry scowled. "If I told you, you'd fix it." He replied. "Now, give us a minute, will you?"

George disappeared and Harry got up off the bed, taking Cedric's arm and pulling him to his feet. 

"We have a minute before the twins come and do something terrible like glitter bomb us. What did you have in mind?" He asked, with a look that might have come off as smug. 

Harry, who seemed to have grown an inch or two over the summer, didn't even have to stand on his tip toes as he kissed Cedric once more, whispering, "Just one more minute."

"A-hem." 

They ignored it, deciding to take their full minute seriously. 

"Come _on_." Ron hissed, and Cedric pulled away, wishing he realized which Weasley it was before he decided to taunt him. 

"Sorry." Cedric muttered, scratching the back of his head and avoiding Ron's gaze.

Harry shook his head. "Don't apologize to him. He's promised to be more understanding. Haven't you, Ron?"

This time, it was Ron who looked uncomfortable. "They're about to start. Twins say you better come if you want to listen in."

Resigning, they followed Ron to the top of the staircase, where Fred, George, Ginny, and Hermione waited for them. 

"Busy?" She smirked, watching them with a raised eyebrow. Ginny was staring at them with an odd expression as well.

Cedric noticed Harry's mussed hair and reddened lips, and assumed he was in a similar state. Before Harry could act sheepish about it, Cedric glared at them and said, "Just grow up already."

That silenced Hermione. 

"Where's Viktor?" Harry asked. 

"In the meeting. But he says he can't tell me what happened, so we have to listen." She informed him. 

Ron shook his head. "Hermione, wanting to break the rules. Who'd have thought?"

"It's for the sake of knowledge, Ron. And don't act like I haven't broken plenty of rules for you and Harry!" She snapped. 

"Alright, alright." Fred or George said. "Quiet down--we don't want them hearing us, do we?"

"Now, come and marvel at our newest invention--the extendable ear!" The other finished, pulling out an ear with a long cord attatched. 

"It's only a prototype," the first murmured, "because we've been short on funds. But watch--no, listen to--this!" 

He sent the ear over the edge of the staircase, dangling down by the entrance to the room where the Order was meeting. 

Cedric waited expectantly, but he heard hardly any sound. They heard a static sound and a few muffled words, but that was it. 

"I told you we should have used the Magically Resistant glue, George." Fred snapped, reeling up the ear. 

"I told you, we couldn't afford that if we were ordering the chitin powder for the new fireworks!" George protested. 

"Yeah, well a good deal those fireworks are doing us here! Now, the ear isn't working because of their _Muffilato_ charm." He muttered sourly in response, stalking away. George followed after him, and they whispered fervently with each other. 

Ron snorted. "Those two have been antsy lately. They want to start a joke shop, but they're having budgeting problems." He explained. 

Ginny nodded in agreement. "Mum isn't helping, either. She keeps telling them that they won't be able to do it." She frowned, as if this saddened her. 

"Really?" Harry asked pensively. "That's... That's too bad." 

Cedric watched Harry carefully, wondering what was on his mind. He would ask later. For now, they had to wait for the meeting to end.

* * *

The meeting had been going on for an hour, and yet little had been decided upon. Remus was growing restless--he and his companions had been allowed little room to speak, and he thought they had the most to say. 

"No, they are still a threat!" Viktor protested, after someone commented on the lack of Death Eater activity. "I vos as the graveyard! The Dark Lord is returning, I swear to you!"

There was a mix of denial and agreement, and some clamor occurred. 

"I don't see him anywhere." Mundungus Fletcher barked. "I say we have no reason to be here. Everything is fine."

"Everyone!" Dumbledore barked. "This is not a debate over wether or not the Dark Lord is a threat. He is. We must determine _how_ he is a threat and _how_ we must address it!" His magic felt heated and sharp in the air around Remus, and he hoped the others knew to hold their tongues. 

Gray Ombur, one of the werewolves he had with him, did not stay silent. 

"Had you given us opportunity to speak, Dumbledore, we could have prevented this debate. We come with news regarding Death Eater's plans." Ombur said, cold steel lining his voice. Remus had never seen him so somber. He supposed things changed fast. 

"What do you mean?" Tonks turned her attention to him, noticin his blue hair and curiously making her own match it. 

"A Death Eater has made an offer to our pack and divided us." Cilla Caft elaborated. 

"Pack?" Arthur Weasley asked. "So, you're werewolves? Interesting. Who was the Death Eater?" His voice was tinged with an enthusiasm that hardly matched the mood of the room. 

Ombur frowned. "Malfoy. I'm sure you all know him?" He inquired, nodding when there was a murmur from the table. A man well-suit to having full attention, he continued. "He came offering Wolfsbane and getting Fenrir Greyback out of Azkaban, if we would follow his plan." 

"I pursued the part of the pack that had broken off. They would not speak to me, but they are murmuring about a prison break." Cilla explained, looking around with her bright green eyes. She looked powerful and strong; slim and red haired, he was sure that many were feeling reminded of Lilly Evans.

"They most likely will liberate the Death Eaters... And Greyback." Dumbledore concluded. "This is not good. The Death Eaters will regain their strongest supporters, and the werewolves their leader."

Remus coughed. "Not all the werewolves are on the same side, Dumbledore. You have us, as well as Blindeye's pack." He reminded them. 

"Under one condition." Ombur interjected. "We want reform in the Ministry to promise us good quality of life. Safe havens outside of packs in secret locations. Jobs without fearing persecution if our true indentities are discovered."

"I would help with that." Sirius announced. Remus knew he would, remembering how much he and the other Marauders did to help him.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "That is all good to know." He announced. "But we have higher priorities at the moment. Such as Harry's safety."

"Swept under the rug again," Ombur grumbled angrily. Remus was equally pissed... Harry was fine. Did the werewolves mean nothing? And what of the prison break? Would there be no further discussion of that?

Tonks met his eye, knowing what he was thinking. Her look seemed to say, _He knows what he's doing more than we do._

Dumbledore ignored them. "I presume you all understand that Harry must be returning to the Dursley's soon."

"NO!" Half the room shouted, Sirius and the Weasley's the loudest. 

"No?" Dumbledore sighed. "Need we go over this again? Harry needs to be with them to have the protection of Lily's love. Otherwise, Voldemort will get to him."

"No." Sirius growled. "If it's love Harry needs, he should be with us. Love is what he's furthest from when he's with them." Fury and resolve hardened his voice, and Sirius didn't even reprimand him. Yes, it was important to listen to Dumbledore... But he could not disagree with Sirius on this. 

Dumbledore frowned, wrinkles creasing his brow. "You misunderstand, Sirius. It is the blood connection that is what keeps Harry safe. If you cared for his well being, and that of the wizarding world, you should not persist to argue." Remus could tell that the old Headmaster's patience was reaching the end of its stick.

Sirius stood up. "No! I care about Harry's well being, and _no one_ is benefitting from Harry being beaten and worked like a dog by that family. Is that what's good for the world? To have a hero broken down from mistreatment? What would the wizarding world think of that?" He demanded. 

"Sit, down, Sirius!" Dumbledore raged, his magic flowing out of him like a terrifying desert wind. "I will not have this conversation with you now. Harry must return to the Dursley's as soon as this meeting is over."

Surprisingly, it was Molly Weasley who spoke up. Or, not surprisingly, as she was such a motherly figure. She was very passionate about Harry. 

"And what good would it do? It's done nothing to protect Harry from harm so far." She snapped, staring at him with such a hard glare that even Dumbledore flinched. 

"It's not as if you could send him back." Arthur added, in support of his wife. "They don't want him back."

Dumbledore seethed silently. "His extended periods away from the Dursley's have been the cause of his... danger towards the end of each school year." He explained, his voice raising. "And they _will_ take him back." 

Remus cringed, a scowl setting on his face. He didn't like what Dumbledore was saying. 

"Would you prefer that Harry not go to Hogwarts at all, then, to keep him 'safe?' Why don't we do that then--send him back so he can be berated and abused all the time, because at least he'll not be found by the Dark Lord!" Remus snarled. 

"You twist my words!" Dumbledore cried. "This is not a black and white issue--I am simply doing what must be done so that Lily's sacrifice is not put to waste!" His eyes were fixed on Cilla, as if seeing his former pupil in her. 

"Oh, this is about Lily?" Sirius roared. "What do you think Lily would think of this? Of leaving her son to the cruel mistreatment of the Dursleys? I knew her, Albus! She would not have liked it!"

"Would she rather he be murdered by Voldemort?"

"You hold little faith in us." Remus spat. "Here is a room full of people who love Harry, who would do anything to help him. And yet you are convinced he would be safer in the hands of a hateful, worthless muggle family?" He demanded, looking around the room for suppout. 

"You speak boldly, Remus! Do ypi forget who I am?" Dumbledore cried. Remus felt the heat of his magic on his face, scalding and unforgiving. 

Arthur spoke quietly, standing also. "We haven't. Perhaps you have." His voice raised. "The Albus Dumbledore we know is compassionate. He also does not hold complete power over this Order, Or do you want to lead us like the Dark Lord?"

Dumbledore stilled. "Again, you all twist my words. This argument will lead us nowhere." 

Tonks, bless her, cleared her throat. "Then let's be productive and discuss something that will lead us somewhere. What do we do about Malfoy's prison break?"

The room heaved a sigh of relief. Dumbledore's magic did not subside, however, it's wrath still raging like flames in the air. He did not speak for the rest of the meeting, leaving the discussion to the others. 

Remus knew it wouldn't be the end of the argument, however. And he was not looking forward to facing it. 


	8. Chapter 8

Dumbledore had left as soon as the meeting was over, so Harry didn't get a chance to say hello. He supposed that was fine; he would see the Headmaster at school, anyway. 

Everyone seemed to be in a slightly bitter mood when dinner first started, but soon everyone cheered up when the food arrived. 

Harry sat in between Cedric and Ron, and across from Sirius. Next to Sirius was Remus, who was introducing Harry and Cedric everyone. He seemed to be forcing cheer, leaving Harry to wonder further what had happened at that meeting... 

"This is Nymphadora Tonks." Remus said, pointing to a young woman next to him whose hair was half pink, half blue. 

"Don't you dare call me Nymphadora, though. Tonks is fine." She winked. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Harry. Remus talks about you a lot."

Sirius huffed.

"And that is Gray Ombur," Remus said quickly, pointing to a blue-haired man a few seats down, who was using his wand to Transfigure his empty glass into a rode for a delighted Ginny. He looked up and waved at Harry. 

"He's part of Fenrir Greyback's former pack--but him and Cilla over there, along with several others in their pack, are on our side now." He said, a smile growing on his face. "I spent a while with them, before they were in Greyback's pack. We moved around a lot then," he added. "But, then, they found the pack. They were tired of moving." 

"And you?" Tonks asked, looking up at him curiously. 

"I couldn't join a pack. Even if I felt so betrayes by the wizarding world, even if it was so hard to find a job... Even if all my friends were dead or in prison," he gave Sirius an almost apologetic look, "I couldn't bring myself to embrace that part of me. That's what does it for most people."

Cilla looked over at them, away from her conversation with Hermione. When Harry saw her face, he started--between the hair and the eyes, she looked a lot like the pictures he had seen of his mum. 

"Yes," she said coldly, in a strange accent. "Many of us grow tired of being tossed around by wizards as if we were garbage. Hiding grows old. You find camraderie with people like you." She explained, turning away to continue speaking with Hermione.

"I thought that the three of us were enough, but after a year or so, I suppose it became too much for them. Hunting for jobs, hiding... The pack provided a security for them. A home." Remus frowned, staring blankly at his plate of food. 

Gray Ombur stood up and hovered behind Remus. 

"And a shit home it is." He said, the mirth in his eyes from crafting the rose for Ginny gone. "I've wanted to leave for a while now, but it looks like I'll have to stay to help you maintain a connection with Blindeye." 

Remus twisted in his seat to look up at Gray. "It doesn't have to be that way, does it? Cilla could do that--we have open doors for you here. And Wolfsbane," he added meaningfully. 

Gray flinched, running a hand through his blue hair. "I couldn't ask that of you." He mumbled. 

Harry frowned. "Of course you can. You're helping us, why shouldn't we help you?" He inquired, not really knowing what he was saying. 

Tonks shot him a smile, as if applauding his kindness. She looked up at Gray. "He's right. We can't promise you our end of the deal yet--the Ministry reform, I mean. But, we can always promise a place to stay. For anyone. I even have room at my home!" 

Gray's eyes widened. "I--we--"

Cilla leaned over to peer at them. "I think what he means to say is that it would not go over well." She said diplomatically. "Several in our pack, even if they did not join the Dark, still choose to embrace our wolves. It is all we have known; the thrill of the hunt is all that grounds us." 

Sirius scowled. "Show them a family, based off of something other than pack loyalty. Show them that there's something more than that. Just look at Moony here!" He nudged Remus, who frowned. 

"Sirius," he sighed. "It's more than that. But she's right. Not all werewolves want the Wolfsbane, and when it comes to it legally, it's very problematic to give rights to someone who wants to run about killing once a month. It's a slippery slope."

"My apologies for lacking your moral superiority." Cilla spat, sitting back in her chair and ignoring them. Harry saw Hermione had gone to listening to Viktor talk with Mr. Weasley. 

Gray sighed. "That's just how she is. She was never shown the same kind of compassion that Remus did, growing up. She was bitten when she was seven." 

"What about you?" Cedric asked, speaking up for the first time. "When were you bitten? And would you want to not be in a pack?" He asked with the kind of tact that, really, only Cedric could muster.

"Me?" Gray laughed a little, though his face grew cold in thought. "It was during the War. That was, what, sixteen years ago? So, I was eighteen. So, I had plenty of warm feelings towards wizards before then. But, between the war, and being a werewolf... It's been rough. I've had my go with pack life, I think." 

Remus smiled at his friend. "Well, I'd be happy to have you back, Ombur." 

There was a silent moment shared between them, something that Harry didn't think he couldn't quite grasp. 

Sirius shifted next to Remus, giving them a minute before he whispered something into his ear. 

"Right now?" Remus hissed back, getting up. The two hurried out of the room without another word. 

Gray took Remus' seat, and began chatting up the young woman, who's hair slowly shifted to completely match his. 

"She's a metamorphagus," Ron whispered to Harry. 

"A what?" Harry asked, watching the last strand turn from pink to blue. 

"She can change what she looks like. Sort of like an animages, except she has to stay human." He ecplained. "I don't really get it," he added with a shrug. 

"But can a metamorphagus become an animagus?" Cedric asked philosophically. 

The three boys looked at each other, stumped. 

"Ask Hermione." Ron shrugged. 

And thus, the dinner broke apart. Ron, Hermione, and Cedric all sat on the floor together to theorize about animagi, and Harry ended up talking with Viktor, who moved him to a sofa, promising to discuss a "very serious matter." 

Harry took one last look at the deconstructed groups. Gray and Tonks sat together, now flirting madly. Cilla was having a quiet conversation with Ginny, and the rest of the adults had grouped off to whisper fervently, probably discussing the meeting. 

"Well, what is it?" Harry asked, looking at Viktor. 

"It is about the night in the graveyard." He said slowly. "I did not have the courage to tell you beforehand, but it gives me little rest now."

"What about?" Harry asked cautiously, wondering if some dangerous secret was about to be divulged. 

Viktor took a deep breath. "The Dark Lord asked me to kill Fleur... To return to the school and bring you to him. I almost did." He whispered. 

"What stopped you?" Harry asked, feeling his heart beat faster. 

"Many things." Viktor murmured, still taking his time. "Seeing Fleur's bravery. Remembering Hermione. Realizing the Dark Lord vould kill me anyway." 

"And what about now?"

Viktor looked him in the eye. "Now I know the temptation that the Dark Lord offers. I know how your enemies feel, I think." His voice lowered. "I vould votch out if I were you, Harry." 

Harry blinked, and then Viktor had gotten up to join Hermione. He bent down to whisper something, and then sat down and wrapped his arm around her. 

He joined into the conversation, laughing merrily with Cedric. Ron glowered, and Harry thought selfishly that at least Ron didn't hate Cedric that much. 

More gravely, he thought about the meaning of Viktor's words. Were they an apology? A warning? 

He realized, certainly not for the first time, that Voldemort would be returning, sooner than later. And Harry had no idea what he would do.

He needed to know what they discussed in the meeting. It was only fair, wasn't it?

He cleared his head, and got up to join his friends, happily losing his worries to the company and conversation.

* * *

Sirius pulled Remus into the nearest empty room. They needed to talk. After all the day's discussion, he needed a few, quiet minutes of just _Remus_. 

"So?" He asked. "What's so urgent, Sirius?" 

Sirius shifted, for a moment losing his train of thought and any scrap of confidence. He thought of Remus talking about Cilla and Gray, and living as a pack, and he realized that there were thirteen years apart from each other that they had yet to discuss. 

And, of course, Remus had changed so much. How could he even think he has the right to claim he knew him anymore? He knew only the racous days of their youth, back when things were so easy...

"Sirius?"

He came back into reality. "Oh, sorry." He muttered. 

"Are you alright? You seem a bit out of sorts." Remus said quietly, gently sitting himself down on the floor against the wall. Sirius joined him there, not afraid to sit closely with him. Their years of friendship did grant him that familiarity. 

"I'm fine. I was just thinking." Sirius replied. "You did brilliantly at the meeting, you know. I didn't think you'd talk back to Dumledore," he confessed. 

Remus laughed. "You did, too. Standing up for us werewolves, I mean. And for Harry, too, you know." He paused a moment, deep in thought. "Dumbledore won't be happy with any of us. You don't think he'll hold back on your trial now, will he?"

Sirius sighed loudly, slumping down a little lower. Dumbledore and his self righteous sense of moral power was not what he wanted to think about right now. 

"Not what I was trying to segway into," he laughed. "I wanted to talk about you."

Remus stilled. "Like I said... Right now? You've a house full of Order members, and you want to talk about... _That_?"

"Well, not _that_ if you would prefer not to. But I think our guests can wait." He paused long enough to let insecurity fill his voice. "Unless, well... You want to go be with Tonks? I mean, you two..."

Remus cut him off. "It's not like that. She's far too young, don't you think?" He asked. "We can talk if you like."

Sirius exhaled in relief, setting his head on Remus' shoulder. It was comforting. They used to sit like this a lot when they were younger.

"First, I wanted to say sorry. We weren't on good terms when I, well, left. I mistrusted you, I was bitter with--"

"I mistrusted you, too. Up until a few years ago, I thought you _deserved_ to rot in Azkaban. I hated you, and I hated myself for letting you into my head." Remus interrupted in a whisper. 

"And as I rotted in Azkaban, I was left to thinking about you, and of every reason you had to hate me. For not letting you stay with me when you couldn't get a job, for telling James you were on the wronf side, for lying to you about my feelings--"

He broke off in a few ragged laughs. "I thought about you when I was in Azkaban, Remus. Not any of those girls I was with in school. They meant nothing, because all that time, I was thinking about you."

Remus' breath faltered, and he stiffened a bit. 

"You really want to talk about it, Padfoot?" He asked. 

"Yeah, Moony. I do." Sirius affirmed. 

"Fine." Remus breathed. "I spent our latter Hogwarts years watching you run off with half the girls in our year, not jealous of you for being with them, but the other way around. I felt like you betrayed me. And then, I thought you _betrayed_ us.... I thought you were the reason James and Lily were dead. I blamed you when I didn't have a soul in the world left to love me. So I spent years trying to heal that betrayal, to forget you."

"Except I couldn't. I couldn't heal in a world where I was all alone. Where I had no home, where everyone was against me." He took Sirius' hand. "I couldn't heal without _you_ , as ironic as it was."

Sirius took the confession in slowly. After a long minute, he smiled wryly, and put his arm around Remus' shoulders. "I only went after those girls because I thought I couldn't have you."

Remus huffed. "A couple of old fools we are. To think how long we've put this off." He murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. "I knew, you know. I always did."

"Of course you did. You were always the smartest." 

There was a long silence, neither knowing what to do with themselves. Sirius just listened to Remus' breathing in and out.

"I would have done anything for you." He said at last. "I still would." 

"I know." Remus replied, squeezing his hand. He stood up. "We should really get back to our guests, though."

Sirius felt a lump of disappointment build in his chest. "Must we?" 

"We must." Remus replied, taking his hand and helping him up. "We'll have all night once they're gone."

Sirius grinned. He definitely liked the sound of that. 

* * *

Most everyone had gone back home before midnight, leaving Cedric and Harry the only ones to remain at Grimmauld Place with Remus and Sirius. Viktor and Hermione were still staying with the Weasley's, and Tonks had offered the other werewolves a place to stay. 

Cedric and Harry had gone to sleep later that night. 

Now, it was morning. Cedric had lain awake since the wee hours of the morning. He had been worrying about Harry, and Voldemort, and the Dursleys, and speculating about what could have been discussed in the meeting.

The sun had yet to rise, and Harry was still sleeping peacefully. Cedric slipped out of bed, heading downstairs for a glass of water. He would return in a few minutes.

At the bottom of the stairs, he heard voices. He stopped behind the doorframe, waiting to hear something so he would know if he was dropping in on anything. 

"What are you planning on telling Harry?" Remus said quietly. "You just got his hopes up."

"There's nothing to tell him yet!" Sirius protested. "We don't know what Dumbledore is going to do yet." 

Cedric leaned closer against the wall, straining to listen. The wood smelled moldy, and he could feel his heart like it was in his throat. 

_Dumbledore? What is he doing?_

"Sirius. Think rationally. Dumbledore is used to things going his way. He'll do what he can to get  Harry back to the Dursleys." 

There was a sound of something clattering, and he heard Sirius begin to pace around anxiously. 

"I know! I know. But why does he care so much? Why does it matter to him? The summer is nearly over anyway...." 

"Relax. Breathe. I don't know what he has in mind, but we can take it. We can take him to court, bring the media on him, whatever it takes. I know this matters to you, Padfoot."

"I know, I know... But is it safe? We don't want people dividing over this... Not when a war is coming..."

Cedric took a breath, and slipped into the room. "G'morning." He murmured, faking a yawn. 

"Cedric." Remus said. "We didn't hear you come down. You're up early." 

"Yup." Cedric replied. " _Accio_ water glass," he said, a cup flying out of a cabinet into his hand. He filled it with water. 

"Hey," Sirius scolded good-naturedly, "no magic outside of Hogwarts!"

"They only can trace it for muggleborns." He replied, drinking his water in a gulp. "So, what's the conversation this morning?"

Sirius and Remus exchanged a glance. Remus picked up his paper and began reading, as if to say, _This is all you._

Sirius cleared his throat. "Oh, nothing exciting. We were just discussing some themes from yesterday's meeting." He said, busting himself with making the coffee. 

"That's very interesting," Cedric replied, taking a seat at the table, making it clear he waan't about to leave. "I'm very interested in politics, you know."

Sirius' back was to Cedric, only showing him long black curls and a shiny black robe. "I'm afraid we can't discuss it now. Perhaps later." 

Remus set down his paper to come to Sirius' rescue. "How's Harry?" He inquired, Sirius walking over to poir him a cup of coffee.

"Sleeping, last I checked. Out like a light," he added, hoping he had slept without nightmares or any other Voldemort-induced visions. 

"Mm." Remus took a sip of his coffee. "Yes, Sirius mentioned he let you share a bedroom. I can't say I think it's the most appropriate arrangement... I trust you two are careful?"

Cedric raised an eyebrow. If it was an attempt to get him to leave, it was a low one. It would have worked on Harry, but not him. 

"Come, now, Remus. Let the boys be." Sirius muttered, a sly grin on his face. 

"No, it's fine. I can see the concern," he replied, meeting Remus' gaze. "Harry and I haven't done anything, I promise. Especially not here." 

"See, Remus? Trust a prefect." Sirius muttered. Cedric wasn't going to mention anything about the Prefect's bathroom.

"Not to mention Harry is so shy about those things." Cedric chuckled. "Most of the time," he added for honesty. 

Remus raised both eyebrows, apparently disappointed that his tactic failed. He wouldn't chase Cedric out by talking about that. 

Sirius burst out laughing. "Is he?"

"His face goes beet red." Cedric affirmed, grinning. 

"Oh," Sirius chuckled, sighing nostalgically. "Let me tell you about Harry's father..."

Remus coughed. "Sirius. Not that one. Completely inappropriate." 

"Come on, Moony! You're no fun." Sirius pouted. 

"Fine." Remus sighed, returning to his paper. "Don't say I didn't warn you," he added to Cedric. 

Sirius smiled triumphantly, choosing to tell the story of James' complete shameless regard of nudity. It started off with him strutting around the changing room before a Quidditch match to throw off the opposing team, and ended with him and Sirius charming the entire Slytherin team's robe into looking invisible. 

"Charming, weren't they?" Remus asked, regarding Cedric's laughter. 

Then, Harry stumbled into the room, looking groggy and his hair all a-tangle. He was in pajamas several sizes too large for him, that had once been Dudley's. 

"Hullo." He muttered, pulling up a chair next to Cedric. "What's the joke?" He asked. 

"Your father." Cedric grinned, still laughing quietly to himself. 

Sirius was staring at Harry. "What on earth are you wearing?" He asked. 

"Hmm?" Harry looked down at himself. "Oh. These were Dudley's. Most of my clothes were Dudley's."

"Don't you have anything else of your own?" Remus asked him, also peering at him intently. 

"Well, I have my school robes..."

Sirius and Remus exchanged a glance. 

"I'm not saying that you should be decked out in fine silk suits," Sirius said carefully, "but I think you deserve some new clothes that fit." 

Harry blinked. "Oh. Okay." His head must have been still foggy with sleep, because he didn't seem to understand what Sirius was saying. 

"Why don't we go to Diagon today and get you something nicer to wear?" Remus asked. "Or a muggle shop, if you prefer."

Harry shrugged. "Diagon would be nice." He admitted. "I'll have to go to Gringott's anyway, to get money for it."

Sirius' gaze snapped over to Harry. "What? No! I'll pay for it; don't be silly!" He chided.

"Oh." Harry turned bright red. "I mean, if you like..."

Remus smirked. "He would. And you can't stop him," he added. "Why don't I make us some breakfast? And then we can be on our way."

Cedric, for some reason, felt an almost triumphant feeling gather within him. He felt that is visit to Grimmauld place was going very well. 

But there was still the conversation he had overheard between Sirius and Remus... He would have to find out more before he worried Harry with it. 

What was Dumbledore up to? Why didn't he want Sirius to take Harry in?


	9. Chapter 9

"And remember, _don't_ do anything foolish." Draco's father said quietly, sweeping away and leaving him all alone in the bustle of Diagon Alley. 

Well, not completely alone. They had planned this all out beforehand, of course, giving Draco plenty of time to make arrangements of his own. He would be meeting with Pansy. He had at least three hours--Lucius and Narcissa would be very busy. His father and mother were making a visit to Gringott's, so that they would have strong alibis should anyone become suspicious of them.

They would be under suspicion, of course. The Malfoys were always under suspicion when something Dark was afoot. This time, it really would be their doing. And most of wizarding society would be majorly pissed when they found out. 

Lucius had sent a group of Death Eater's both to the Diggory's house and to the Dursley's, where Potter apparently spent his summers. It had been planned quickly at the meeting, and now was being carried out shortly after, so as to ensure time didn't allow their plots to leak out to open ears. From what Draco had picked up on (he had been allowed to formallt attend after he accidentally revealed his presence), it was not of vital importance, anyhow. It was just to shake Potter up and terrify the public once the news got out.

Since the meeting, Draco had been forbidden to resume correspondence with Pansy after her father withdrew his alliance to the Dark Lord. He couldn't help but think that his father's sudden restrictions also had to do with the fact that Draco had been caught eavesdropping on them. He didn't know why he had been so impulsive as to speak aloud. He regretted it, of course.

But that was not on his mind now. He was having a 'secret' rendezvous with his friend, and he was earnestly trying to slip his way through the crowds to find Pansy. She would be waiting for him in Madam Malkin's. 

The new August morning was warm and bright. He didn't see too many other Hogwarts students; the end of the summer rush had yet to begin. He passed by several brightly-dressed wizards and witches. Those of which who didn't recognize him beamed widely at him, warming some cold part inside of him he hadn't known was there. 

It felt nice not to be a Malfoy for a while.

Madam Malkin's shop came into view, and he quickly ducked into the shop. He spotted Pansy in the back, peering at some robes in the back. She looked discreet, casually catching his eye and beckoning him over. 

"How goes it?" She murmured, looking overly interested something mauve.

"Not very well." Draco confessed. "Father's been in a particularly foul mood today. Something big is happening today." He leaned over to get a closer look at her face, which she was pointedly avoiding showing him. 

"And should you be telling me that?" She inquired. "After all, my father's been acting foul as well. I'm thinking there's going to be quite a split." 

"Come on, Pans!" Draco protested. "Don't be like that. We're still friends." 

She turned to face him, frowning. "I know, Draco. But our fathers have pushed us onto opposite sides. We both must take care to--" She broke off as the bell on the door rang. She fixated on something, looking shocked. 

"Don't look," she whispered, "but Potter's here."

Of course he had to look. He always had to look when Potter was around. 

Pansy stopped him, however, pulling him into a nearby dressing room and covering his mouth with a hand. They could hear Potter and company on the other side. 

"More dress robes?" Potter complained. "I still have the ones from last year."

Classic, tasteless Potter.

"Yeah, but you've grown a few inches," Diggory's voice sounded. Draco didn't know why he was disappointed--or even surprised--that he was there.

 _Oh_. 

"Fuck." He whispered. Pansy elbowed him hard, casting a silencing charm around them so they could hear but not be heard. 

"Get over it, Draco!" She snapped. "They're together. It happened; too bad."

"Thats not the problem!" He hissed, rounding on her with a glare. "Father sent out people to those two's homes to torment them! And they're here!"

Pansy muttered something about typical shitty Malfoy plans, but he tuned out to listen to Potter's conversation again.

"Do you even think I'll need dress robes?" Potter scoffed. "Won't we be busy with bigger issues?"

Surprisingly, Draco heard old Professor Lupin's voice. 

"Remain hopeful, Harry. You never know what celebrations could occur. Or, more likely, a formal council." Lupin said gravely. 

Then, a voice Draco wasn't so familiar with. 

"It would be nice to have should you come and speak at my trial. Besides, I'm paying for it. So, lets get you fitted with some dress robes."

Draco heard Potter groan in defeat.

"Shit." He whispered. Now, his father _definitely_ couldn't know that he had come to see Pansy. Unless, of course, he told his father that he had been spying on Potter... But then Lucius would expect him to help with his absurd plan to hurt Potter. And he didn't want that, either. 

"What did Lucius have planned?" Pansy demanded. "Wait. Maybe you shouldn't tell me..."

Draco scowled. "You know damn well you want to know, and that I'm ready to tell." He snapped, wishing he could peer through the door somehow and see what Potter and crew was doing. 

"Oh, then I suppose you'll have to tell me." She grumbled, pointedly looking away. "Completely forget the fact that it puts us both at risk of betrayal should we be put under Veritaserum."

"Like that should happen." He spat. "Father wanted to stir things up and scare everyone. He was going to abduct Diggory and and hex up Potter. He wanted to threaten them a bit, and before it could get out kf hand he would send Diggory back."

Pansy crossed her arms. "It already sounded out of hand. He should be grateful it won't play out." She sourly kicked him in the shin. "This is why my father refused to stay allied. Your father is an eccentric idiot serving a Lord who has yet to show his face." 

"You don't hit me!" He growled, shoving her shoulder. "And your father didn't seem to adverse to acting like a Death Eater at the World Cup. None of them did."

She rolled her eyes. "That was different, you sod. That was really being a Death Eater. That wasn't planned by your father, and it was more fun for them." She shook her head. "Abducting Diggory and torturing Potter? That's war, and it's not exactly something I can see the Dark Lord doing."

Draco nodded in agreement, despite the grimace on his face. "But Father is convinced that he will become the Dark Lord's right hand man. He's doing this in the belief he's saving his own skin."

Pansy laughed. "What, by trying to pretend he's the Dark Lord?" She stared at Draco like he was insane. "If the Dark Lord does rise, he will not be at all pleased with you Malfoys. You're at war with all sides."

Draco frowned. "So, what? Do you think he'll side with you?"

Pansy shrugged. "Father says its more likely. Those who abandoned your father are staying true to _His Lordship."_

 _"_ But of course, Father won't listen." He groaned. "Oh, Pansy... What do I do? I'm on all the wrong sides." _  
_

"Listen." She hissed, nodding her head towards the door.

He began to eavesdrop again. 

"How's this one, Siri--I mean, er, Padfoot?" Potter asked. 

_What kind of a name is Padfoot?_

"Fine." The unfamiliar voice, Padfoot, replied. "It's a dress robe, isn't it? What do you say, Madam Malkin?

"Mmh, no. It's not the color for your eyes." She replied. "Let me go find something else."

He heard her shuffling next to the changing room they were in. More importantly, he heard a hushed whisper from Potter. 

"You go out under Polyjuice a lot, Sirius?" He asked. 

"Don't be careless, Harry," Lupin snapped. "Of course he does. Until the trial."

Draco shared a look with Pansy. 

_Polyjuice. Trial._

_Sirius Black._

Their eyes widened, and they pressed harder to listen.

"Will it be safe, even then?" Diggory asked. "I mean, even my parents still wouldn't trust you with a Knut. I cant imagine how they'd react if they knew 'staying with Harry' came with 'under supervision of Sirius Black.'"

Draco nearly choked. "They're staying with Black?" He whispered. Pansy just shushed him with a glare. 

"I'm sure it will be hard." Potter sighed. "I know I despised you, back before I knew."

"People will take your word, though, Harry. I'm sure you can help me out when you come to the trial." He paused, now speaking loudly. "And in those robes, no less! Thank you, Madam. Try these on, Harry."

Diggory could be heard chortling softly. 

"Pansy..." Draco groaned. "What do I do?" 

"Just keep listening." She ordered, not bothering to look at him. 

"No! I can't learn anymore. This is dangerous, Pans." He hissed, crossing his arms.

She glowered at him, smacking his face. "You're an idiot, Malfoy. You're more distressed about hearing Potter's plans than telling me your father's? What happenes to your infamous self preservation?" She demanded, her eyes hard and a scowl resting on her lips. 

"This _is_ out of self interest!" He insisted, rubbing the stinging mark on his face where she has slapped him. "You... you _know_ how I... How I feel about Potter." He scowled, hating to say it.

Pansy scoffed. "What, that you're envious of his fame and admiration? That you think it's unfair that he's a talented Quidditch player? That you despise the injustice of him refusing your friendship?" 

Draco lowered his head. "All of those things, yes." He murmured. "But I..."

Pansy sighed. "You have some sort of insane infatuation with him. Because you can't have him." She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, and just when he thought he was going to get sympathy... She smacked him again. 

"Damn it, Pans! Nobody hits me!"

"Well, I just did." She snapped. "You have a schoolboy crush on Potter, and you're being a fool about it. You know you are. You have to separate your feelings from the situation!"

Her voice was too loud for his liking, and he cast some extra muffling charms as he heard Diggory mutter, "Sounds like someone next door is having a row."

"And what, betray Potter to Father? So then I really _can_ be a criminal to everyone else?" He whispered fervently, feeling the heat of realization and terror crawl up his neck. "Father... Father's side is clearly the only one I have a place on. No one else will take me."

Pansy nodded. "Which is why you'll have to tell him."

"No!" He cried, taking a step backward and falling into the wall, making a loud tumbling noise. "No. Then I'll tell him everything else... And... I don't want to be on his side."

"Is everything alright in there?" Madam Malkin asked through the door. 

Pansy cancelled her silencing charm. "Fine, Madam. I'm just clumsy is all. I still have a few more robes to try on!"

"Oh, well, carry on. I'll finish up with the other customers. Let me know if you need anything!"

She reset the silencing charms. 

"You, admitting you're clumsy?" He inquired with a chuckle. 

She glared at him with daggers. "Don't try and distract me, Malfoy."

"Pans." He replied, holding his arms in the air. "I--"

He froze when he heard Potter speak again. 

"That sounded like Parkinson." He remarked, seeming concerned. 

"We should go," Diggory suggested. "We don't want anyone on the other side listening."

Pansy scoffed. "Other side." She mimicked. "Which side do you want to be on? Theirs, Draco? Obviously, they'll never accept us."

Draco closed his eyes. "I don't know." He whispered. "Just--just _Obliviate_ me. I don't want to remember any of this. It's not safe."

"No. You're overreacting, Draco."

She dropped all the charms and opened the door. The whiff of fresher air was nice; the changing closet had begun to feel stuffy. 

He followed after her, out on to the street. Potter and his gang were nowhere to be found. 

"Please, Pansy. Father won't be happy if I say anything! Clearly, no one will! I'm on the wrong side to be helping the Dark Lord, and I'm on the wrong side to be helping Potter." He pleaded, trailing after her and tugging on her robe. She shrugged him off.

"Draco. All you have is your family," she reminded him. "That matters. Stay close to them."

He sped up to walk beside her. "I don't care about family values! If I stay on Father's side--if I help him--I'm dead!" He cried. 

"You're dead either way, Draco. Your father has driven you into the ground." She whispered, and Draco realized there were tears pricking her eyes. "And I can't help you!" She froze, stared at him for a moment, and then began to run away. 

He didn't even follow after her, so lost he was in the despair of his own thoughts. She was right, of course. 

No one could help him. 

* * *

 

Yaxley had just finished feeding his Lord's homely form. He now permanently reeked of foul flesh, so he cared less now. He was slowly growing used to his hell.

Because, soon, he would rise out of the ashes, right beside his risen Lord. 

"I have been reading, My Lord." He said, looking up over his book. "I am so close to uncovering the secret of your resurrection." He smiled maniacally, and resumed reading over the sound of the creature's screams.

He would have to wait until the Solstice. He would also need a Necromancer. And a vampire; he wasn't sure he could find one to cooperate. There was also the matter of acquiring some few Dark objects... 

He could go to Bellatrix for those. He had heard of Malfoy's scheming to free the Death Eaters in Azkaban. It would be most helpful, considering he knew that none of those brave souls in prison would be fool enough to bow to Malfoy's wishes. 

_Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy._

He thought he was winning his Lord's favor, trying to stir up the wizards and revive the werewolves, free his Lord's servants. What a fool Malfoy was, trying to start his own revolution.

"Only real sacrifices are rewarded." Yaxlet whispered, trailing a shaking finger over the page in the book. "And I will have made the truest sacrifice of all."

* * *

Leo Geldsing was young. He was lively and passionate, aching for the excitement of war. 

So, of course he has jumped at the opportunity to help Malfoy. He was a famous Death Eater, and he spoke passionately about aiding the rise of the Dark Lord. Leo had happily agreed to join him, to help carry out his plan. 

He was in some muggle suburb. It was dull and unexciting; all the houses were the same. Muggles values uniformity, it seemed. _How boring._

He knew, however, that once he got inside that house, things wouldn't be so boring. He was itching with the excitement of seeing Harry Potter, of cursing Harry Potter, of hearing the screams being pried from Harry Potter's throar. 

Leo's father had served the Dark Lord. Not too long before Harry Potter had been born, however, he had been killed by some righteous member of the other side. Potter's side. Leo had been five at the time.

There was hardly a difference between each side, he thought, besides who led them. The "Light" side could be equally as cruel, equally as seamy. Only they carried out their harsh deeds in the shadow of the law, under the premise of good intentions, and wrapped in the protection of the Ministry.

Leo couldn't wait to see that all change. For the world to shake when they realized there was no good side.

"Get ready, Geldsing." Bulstrode whispered. "I'm opening the door."

"Opening" was a delightful understatement. The door erupted into splinters, the wood shattering silently. Bulstrode crept in, and Leo followed after him in excitement.

Bulstrode whistled a few casual notes. 

"Who's there?" A female voice called. "Vernon, is that you? Are you home early?"

"Not Vernon." Bulstrode called back, following the sound of her voice into the next room, charging in and blasting out a chunk of the ceiling with a wand. 

Leo followed after him, just seconds later entering to find a middle-aged woman bound and being levitated in the air.

"Hullo, old lady." Leo hummed, pointing his wand at her. "Where's your little boy Harry?"

"I don't have a Harry!" She screamed. "There are no Potters here!"

Bulstrode flicked his wand, and she slammed into the wall. 

A deeper scream sounded from up the stairs. "Mum?! What's going on?"

"Is that him?" Leo asked. "Because we never said anything about Potters." He smirked, raising his wand and ready to inflict any damage should Bulstrode allow.

The woman began to sob, quaking in the air against the _Levicorpus_ spell. 

"Please," she wailed, "I sent the brat away! He's not here! Don't hurt my Dudley!"

"Not here?" Bulstrode shouted, slamming her against the wall again. "Don't lie, woman! This is where he lives, isn't it?"

She screamed again. "It was!" She cried desperately. "It was. But I knew you would come so I had my husband send him away! Your kind took him away! Don't hurt us!" She blubbered. 

Bulstrode snarled, dropping her to the floor. 

"Take care of her." He ordered Leo. "I'm searching the house."

The woman stood up, despite her battered body. "No! Not my Dudley!"

Leo snarled and cast a spell to bind her ankles together with thorns, and she tumbled to the floor. Bulstrode carried on, casting spells to search for any other traces of life. 

"If he's not here, where'd he go?" Leo demanded, squatting down to press his wand to her throat. 

"I--I don't know." She choked, tears streaming down her face. 

Leo wiped her face, examining the damp tears on his fingers. "You don't, do you?" He questioned. "Perhaps if I made you cry some more... _Crucio_!"

She screamed more as her body convulsed and her ankles tore against the thorns. He ceased after a minute or two, leaving her breathing heavily.

"Come, now," he crooned, prodding his wand against her face. "Where's Potter? You can tell me."

"Some wizards took him!" She cried. "God knows where. It was a few weeks ago. They came in from the fireplace!"

He cocked his head and withdrew his wand. "Really?" He inquired, standing up. "Do you remember what they looked like?"

"Y-yes." She croaked, her eyes rolling up to look at him, showing mostly the whites. "Tall. Red-haired. And another one with sandy hair... He had his arms all over Harry."

Leo smirked. "Really? And they came through the fireplace?"

"Yes!" She cried. "Yes. P-please. That's all I know. Leave us alone."

"Fine." Leo snorted, stalking away into the next room. "Bulstrode!" He called. "He's gone. Through the Floo."

Bulstrode appeared down some stairs. "He's definitely not up there--just some fat child. I gave him a few hexes he won't be forgetting, the blubbery beast."

The woman wailed. 

"Well, know much about floos?" Leo inquired. "Perhaps we can trace where he went." 

Bulstrode nodded, assertively finding his way to the living room. "I'll have to teach you how to do this," he said. "It came in plenty of handy during the War. To find people close to our enemies." With a smirk, he dropped to the ground, and began fiddling with the fireplace with his wand. 

"Well?"

"There's no Floo." He frowned, standing up. "It must have been removed. Did she tell you who he left with?"

"Some red-heads and a lighter-haired guy. Said he was all handsy with Potter. Ring any bells?"

Bulstrode smirked. "Oh, yes. The Weasley's... And Diggory. Don't you know anything?" 

Leo frowned. "Apparently not. I've been out of country for a while, you know..." He shook his head. "Does that mean Purcell and Dayfenger are the ones who find them both?"

Bulstrode nodded. "Apparently so. We better get out of here, before the Ministry finds the magic traces here and gets suspicious."

"Can I cast the Mark?" Leo asked.

"No." Bulstrode snapped. "When you're more experienced."

They headed outside, where Bulstrode drew his wand and cast the spell. Above the muggle neighborhood, a skull with a snake in its mouth formed in the sky. 

Leo smirked. Terror was bound to ensue.

Malfoy would be most pleased. 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Their trip to Diagon Alley had been rather uneventful. Harry had gotten a new pair of dress robes from Madam Malkins, and then some more muggle-styled clothes from a pleasant place in Carkitt Market. Then, Harry insisted they go get something from Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. 

"That was fun," Sirius remarked once they were back. "Though we were about a bit too long; look, Remus, I'm out of Polyjuice." He complained, showing Remus the empty flask.

Harry began to chuckle. "A good thing, in my opinion. Another moment of seeing you with short hair and a round nose is one too many." He said, setting down his parcels of clothes. 

"I quite agree." Remus sighed, sitting down and pulling of his boots. "I liks you much better as you are."

"Isn't that a relief?" Sirius asked.

Cedric thought, not for the first time, that there was something going on between those two men he didn't quite understand yet. Which also reminded him of the conversation he had listened in on earlier that morning...

_Should I ask about it? Or should I let it lie? Maybe they'll say something._

"What time is it?" Harry asked, looking at his two adult guardians.

"Twenty past four," Remus said after casting a tempus charm. "You are allowed to use your magic here, Harry." He added with a slight smirk. 

Sirius nodded in agreement. "The Ministry can't tell. Not here, at least. At Privet Drive, it's a different story..."

Harry grinned, satisfied by that answer, and turned to Cedric. "Do you use you magic at home?" He inquired.

Cedric smiled sheepishly, not sure what to say to that. "I'm a Prefect, Harry!" He exclaimed. "I have to set a good example."

"So, I'm guessing from your tone that you do?" 

"Shhh." Cedric chuckled, pressing a finger to Harry's lips. "No one has to know." He whispered, leaning close to him as dramatically as he could. 

Harry, as per usual, looked utterly embarrased. 

Sirius burst out laughing, and as he did, the Polyjuice wore off and gave him his normal body back. Remus joined in too.

"You pair are ridiculous." Sirius sighed. "But I _am_ happy for you. I can imagine that it must be hard sometimes."

"Hard?" Cedric inquired, unabashedly wrapping an arm around Harry. "After the tournament, being with Harry is the least hard thing in my life."

Harry snickered at some misinterpretation, and Cedric lightly kicked his ankle.

"Hey!" 

"Come on, you two." Remus sighed. "I think Sirius was trying to segwey into something else. Weren't you?" He raised an eyebrow and gave him a meaningful look.

"Well, I suppose--"

Sirius didn't finish his sentence, as all of their attentions were snapped to the _crack_! in the living room. 

"Harry! Cedric!" 

Arthur Weasley tumbled into the room. "Oh, thank Merlin you're alright." He exhaled, his knees nearly buckling. 

Remus stood up, flicked his wand, and his boots went back on his feet. "What's the matter, Arthur? You look like you've seen death."

Mr. Weasley straightened himself. "I might as well have." He said, crossing his arms. "Death Eaters, at the Burrow. More specifically, at your house, Cedric." 

"What?!" The four of them exclaimed, frantically exchanging glances. 

"Is everyone alright?" Remus asked, drawing his wand. 

"Why are we still here?" Sirius cried, drawing his own. 

Cedric saw Harry opening his mouth to fit in his own response, but Mr. Weasley beat him to it. 

"I came to make sure Harry and Cedric were here, and _safe_." He emphasized, giving Harry a look. "That means none of you are going. Dumbledore is there; everything will be fine."

"Then you were a right idiot _telling_ us, weren't you?" Sirius spat, not waiting a moment to apparate away to the fight. 

"Damn it!" Arthur exclaimed. "Remus, you'll stay here, won't you? Make sure these two stay safe!" He said fervently, also apparating away back to protect his family. 

Remus frowned. "You two stay here." He said through clenched teeth. "So will I. I will stay here."

Harry shifted uncomfortably, stepping away towardsRemus, who looked already completely unsteady. He looked like his entire being was struggling not to apparate away that very moment.

"Come on, Remus." Harry insisted. "We can't just stay here! We have to go and help." He looked pleading, and not for the thrill of the fight. He was pleading from fear.

"Don't tempt me, Harry!" Remus snapped, moving away. "Sirius was an idiot. There are people there who wouldn't hesitate to kill him, if there really are Death Eaters there." He scowled, closing his eyes. 

"Harry. We can't. What if they were after us?" Cedric asked, shuddering when he remembered Arthur's words. 

_They were at my house. What did they want?_

Harry sighed, and placed a hand on Remus' shoulder in reassurance. "You're absolutely right." He agreed. "Which is why you have to stay, Cedric. It's your house they were after."

Something in Remus' expression snapped, showing he had lost all ties to Grimmauld in that face. He had given in, and apparated to the Death Eaters. 

And Cedric was left alone in the huge, empty house, without the ability to Apparate and without a supply of floo powder to get him to the Weasley's.

A heavy, despaired nausea pooled in his gut. Harry was right where the Death Eaters wanted him, he realized, and he wouldn't be there to save him.

He threw up on the spot. 

 

* * *

Harry was unused to the thrall of apparition, feeling sick as it unscrambled and rescrambled every particle of his body. 

Once back in place, he was in a new location--a hill nearby the Burrow. Now his feet were on steady ground, he immediately pitched over and vomited. He was dizzy, and as he reasserted himself, he saw there were six men in black robes, against Molly and Arthur Weasley and Cedric's mother. Sirius was nowhere to be found, and Harry hoped that wasn't for the worst. 

Remus rounded on him. "You _made_ me to that!" He hissed, dropping to the earth and pulling Harry into the grass. "Stay here." He ordered.

"No!" Harry protested. "I'm here for a reason. Aren't I the reason there's fighting?"

"You can't go into battle, Harry," Remus snapped, rolling to a sitting position. 

"I fought in the Tournament!" He retorted. "And you taught me well. I'm good at dueling."

Remus snorted. "Please, Harry. Show some humility and _stay here."_

"Pretending to be a Hufflepuff won't help me here!" Harry cried, getting to his feet. "Let me fight and I can help even the numbers."

Remus didn't respond. There was a loud yelping sound, and they were both to their feet. A large black dog, Sirius, was attacking one of the Death Eaters. 

Remus didn't spare another moment to go help him. Neither did Harry. Overtaken by a swell of Gryffindor courage, he charged down the hill, his wand drawn. 

The Death Eaters immediately noticed him, and delighted cackles filled the air. Several hexes flashed past him, and Sirius brought down one of the Death Eaters. 

Remus cast several rapid-fire spells that hardly phased the enemy, though one of them began to limp. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw an orange hex flying at him, and he ducked into the grass. 

Sliding quickly to his feet, he was hit in the shoulder by a red spell that caused him to start bleeding. In response, Molly Weasley shot a black hex at the offender, who crumpled to the ground. 

"Where's the boy toy we've heard so much about?" A Death Eater taunted Harry from behind. 

He spun on his heels and cast Expelliarmus, and Sirius took the advantage to take the Death Eater down. 

Mrs. Diggory screeched as a yellow hex tore down her left side, and she crumpled to the ground. Distracted, Harry felt something dig into the back of his knee, like a barb. He, too, fell to the earth.

A cloaked woman with an unfamiliar face appeared above him, staring him down with a wand pointed at him. She smirked. "Oh, lovely. I get the honor." She purred. 

"Don't you dare!" Remus roared. 

He was too late to stop her, however. She uttered a spell he had never heard, and all at once a constricting heat filled his chest. It turned to an icy sting, pricking at his lungs with every panted breath. 

He lost track of time, feeling only new surges of pain throughout his body, like someone had planted a snake inside of his abdomen and it was writing around inside of him, biting every piece of flesh it could touch. 

And this snake did not respond to Parseltongue. It ignored his pleading cries and hisses, relentlessly ripping apart his innards. 

It became all he could be aware of. He no longer knew where he was, who was around him, or even if he was alive. Part of him, the part that could still think, was certain that the Death Eaters had put him into a torturous comatose state. He thought that they had won, that they had him now. Perhaps they would keep him like this until they had ressurected Voldemort so that he could kill him. 

He didn't know how long it had been or where he was when suddenly the pain in his abdomen stopped, and he became aware of his surroundings again. Now, only his his shoulder and his knee were in pain. There was an inexplicable dull throbbing in his other leg, too.

There was a quiet whispering next to him, and he decided to listen to it with closed eyes before he said anything. After all, what if the Death Eaters really did have him. The voices were quiet, and so he did not recognize them. 

"The Dursley's were hit badly, too. They were found beat up and with the Dark Mark above their house." Someone whispered. "I don't trust Dumbledore to be the one to Obliviate them. He might have them take Harry back."

"Fuck that." Another voice snapped. "He won't be any better there. See what good 'blood protection' did them from Voldemort's lackeys." There was a scoff, and then some coughing.

So, they probably weren't Death Eaters. What if they were prisoners to the Death Eaters?

"What will we do, if he doesn't wake up?" The first voice asked, after a long pause. 

The other huffed. "I'm sure someone else will figure it out. I bet the journalists are already lining up to see who gets to cover this story--Harry Potter: The Boy Who Died."

"Don't joke about that!" The first voice hissed. 

"I'm sorry." The second voice murmured. "You know this is how I cope, Remus."

Harry's eyes shot open immediately. Remus. He wasn't in the hands of Death Eaters; he was in a room with Remus, and he realized the other voice must have been Sirius--probably under Polyjuice.

He tried to speak, but his voice just let out a small crack. He couldn't sit up, either; he was left to just stare at the white ceiling above him.

"Did you hear that?" Remus asked.

Harry tried to croak again, this time managing to say Remus' name. 

"Harry!" They both cried, and then they were both at his side, looking down at him. Sirius had apparently gotten more polyjuice, as the other man besides Remus was slightly younger and with lighter, shorter hair. 

Harry coughed a bit, finding some more strength in his voice. "What happened?"

"You're in St. Mungo's." Sirius-not-Sirius informed him. "Once the Death Eaters struck you down, they all retreated. You've been unconscious for two days."

"T-two days?" Harry stuttered, feeling weaker at the thought. "How am I alive?" After all that pain... He thought he could have died. 

Remus smiled compassionately. "We apparated you here as soon as we could, though we accidentally splinched your good foot a bit. They fixed that, too, along with the other hexes you were hit with."

Harry frowned. Two days under some kind of torture spell... 

"What did they get me with?" He asked, remembering the feeling of the snake.

Remus shared a look with the polyjuiced Sirius.

"We don't know." Sirius told him. "You were unconscious, mumbling in Parseltongue. It was terrifying."

Harry groaned. "You could hear the Parseltongue?"

"It's quite a relief to hear you use English." Remus replied carefully.

"Oh." Harry paused. "Can I get something to stop all this pain?" 

"What, from the Splinch or the hex? It's all healed up, according to the nurses. Why would it hurt?" Sirius inquired. 

Remus scowled. "Just go find a nurse, Padfoot. I'll talk to him." He sat down on Harry's bed as Sirius scampered away. 

"What hurts, Harry?" He asked quietly. 

"The curse, whatever it was that knocked me out. It felt like a snake was eating me from the inside out." Harry explained, trying to prop himself up. He realized he was in flimsy hospital gown, and it was cold without the cover of the blanket.

"It did?" Remus asked, with a frown. "For how long?"

Harry grimaced, meeting Remus' eye. "For two days, apparently. Would you happen to know what it is?" He asked.

Remus took a moment, and then nodded gravely. "I might. Let me speak to the nurse. Looks like she's here now." He got up to meet her outside of the room, and Harry could not overhear their hushed whispers.

Especially not when they were drowned out by the familar cry of Ron and Hermione. 

"Harry!" They both exclaimed, rushing over to his bedside. 

"Are you alright?" Hermione demanded, pulling up a chair next to him. "We were worried you wouldn't wake up."

"I'm fine." He assured her, turning to look at Ron, who let out a shaky breath.

"This is better." Ron said. "Now I can just sort of tell myself you had another bad Quidditch mishap."

Harry looked between the both of them, trying to piece together his last memory. "Where were you two when the Death Eaters came? You look alright."

They shared a look.

"Viktor, Ron, and I were out at the theater." Hermione explained. "Ginny and the twins stayed at the Burrow."

Harry, suddenly alarmed, tried to sit up further. "Are they alright?" He demanded.

"They're fine, mate," Ron assured him. "They stayed inside, though Fred and George managed to shoot a few fireworks at them." 

Harry let out a small, relieved laugh. "And Cedric?" He asked, his absence suddenly feeling like a hole in the air. 

Hermione and Ron shared that look again. Ron looked away, and Hermione bit her lip.

"He's with Mrs. Diggory." She sais quietly. "She's not doing so well."

Harry's head dropped. He remembered seeing her fall. He hoped she was alright. 

"Don't worry, mate," Ron assured him hesitantly. "He was in here a while, too. And he'll be back soon! Once he knows you're awake."

Then, there was a crashing of footsteps through the door. 

"Speak of the devil," Ron murmured. 

Cedric appeared, panting and looking terribly urgent. 

"You're alright!"

He rushed to Harry's side, Ron making room for him.

"Gods, Harry, you're a fucking idiot." Cedric muttered, taking his hand. "You knew he would apparate you out! And you left me! I thought you had died." He said desperately. 

"Sorry?" Harry replied, squeezing Cedric's hand as a reminder of his presence.

"That's all I get?" Cedric demanded. "This is worse than any of the tasks, and all I get is a sorry?" 

Remus poked his head in. "Leave it be. He needs to rest." He ordered. 

Sirius entered, crossing his arms. "We all have to leave soon, anyway. Family only after eight o' clock." He said.

Harry sighed. "So, unless the Dursley's visit... I'm alone tonight?" He asked.

Sirius frowned. "Yes, I'm afraid. Unless Remus and I have a little chat with Dumbledore and legally adopt you."

"The two of you?" Harry asked, incredulous but elated at the prospect. 

"Another story for another time," he replied. "We have to go. We'll fill you in on the Dursley situation later, too. And Dumbledore." He added with a scowl.

"Bye, Harry." Ron muttered sorely.

"Feel better soon!" Hermione added, exiting the room. 

Cedric lingered a moment, not letting go of Harry's hand.

"You're still an idiot." He said at last, releasing his grip. "Just wait till you read the papers." 

He got up and left, leaving Harry completely alone in the hospital room. A few minutes later, however, a nurse came in with a tray of potions and some kind of gruel. 

"That Lupin fellow of yours is very smart, Mr. Potter," she remarked. "Were it not for him, we wouldn't know what the problem was. Drink these, and we'll have you out in a few more days." She handed him a red bottle, and its contents smelled positively foul.

Harry grimaced as he prepared to swallow the potion. 

"He was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," he told her, "so I'm not surprised he knew."

* * *

Lucius picked up the newspaper his house elf had just delivered to him. He rarely read the _Prophet_ , but now he was doing so just to ensure his plan had played out in the end. 

The front page was devoted to Potter's closely upcoming release from St. Mungo's. His ailments had not been fatal, and the effects were not permanent. He would be fine.

Which was good. A dead Potter was no use to Lucius.

It went on to discuss the nature of his Death Eaters' attacks on the Weasley and Diggory households, as well as a brief touch on the Dursley attacks. Dumbledore had found the muggles. How strange. 

Lucius also noted with satisfaction that it had done everything he had hoped for. Everyone was terrified, and they were all awaiting the rise of the Dark Lord now. 

He hoped his Lord was pleased.

Or perhaps not. Either way, Lucius had proven his ability to lead others. And lead them in a way that it had obvious effect on those around him. 

All he had to do next was free the Death Eaters in Azkaban. Then, he would have an even wider following (for his Lord, of course), and all those cowards who had abandoned him would come running back. 

It would be brilliant. 

For now, however, Lucius had to focus on the werewolves. And what to do with them? Ardfyn had a most curious change of heart. He requested that his wife and daughter be put into St. Mungo's, and that his own name be cleared. He asked that the werewolf who bit him (who was now dead already), be formally blamed for the crime, and that Ardfyn's own name to be changed so that he might resume a new identity in the wizarding world.

All of which were things Lucius could do, of course. He had already sent all the necessary letters, and he decided he might even drop by St. Mungo's to visit the broken family (and Potter, of course). 

The one thing that Lucius was not sure he wanted to do (though most definitely could) was Ardfyn's final request. Along with his new identity, he wanted a new job. More specifically, a job as the Defense teacher at Hogwarts, which was the only space that remained empty still. 

Lucius could see how it might benefit both of them, of course. He had already written a letter to the other Board members, who would in turn reccomend Ardfyn. Or, rather, they would reccomend Callum Offrey, his new alias, who was a former Auror in Denmark and waa most definitely not a werewolf.

He would do it, of course. But he did not quite trust Ardfyn... Which was all the more reason to let him have the job and have Draco keep an eye on him, he supposed. 

Now, though, he was headed to St. Mungo's, where he would obvliviate the Ardfyn family. Phillip Ardfyn would be dead and innocent, and Callum Offrey would be the new Defense Teacher at Hogwarts. 

Provided, of course, that he and the other half breeds managed to free the Death Eaters. Then, he would agree to their terms. 

Once at St. Mungo's, the wife and daughter were easy to obliviate. They were in the mental ward, separated from one another, fast asleep. Their caretakers would see their sudden change of story as a method to cope with their new environment. They woyld also find that this new story fit in better with the Auror's "official" account, which had not existed until Malfoy had one of his favors fill it in. 

When that was done, he found his way to Potter. He was fast asleep and all alone, without anyone close to comfort him. 

Lucius knew what curse had been used on the boy. A lovely form of torture it was, though useless if one wanted information. Thus, it was perfect for Potter. His intestines probably still ached. 

He smirked, wishing the boy knew he was there. He wouldn't wake, however; not after the sleeping potions. Instead, Lucius drew his wand and began carving a message into the back of Potter's hand. 

_Never let a sleeping werewolf lie._

That would hopefully confund him. It was a fair warning, still. Hopefully, it would turn him away from his precious Lupin, and the tamer pack of Blindeye's.

And he would never suspect his new Defense teacher, would he?


	11. Chapter 11

Their trip to Diagon Alley had been rather uneventful. Harry had gotten a new pair of dress robes from Madam Malkins, and then some more muggle-styled clothes from a pleasant place in Carkitt Market. Then, Harry insisted they go get something from Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. 

"That was fun," Sirius remarked once they were back. "Though we were about a bit too long; look, Remus, I'm out of Polyjuice." He complained, showing Remus the empty flask.

Harry began to chuckle. "A good thing, in my opinion. Another moment of seeing you with short hair and a round nose is one too many." He said, setting down his parcels of clothes. 

"I quite agree." Remus sighed, sitting down and pulling of his boots. "I liks you much better as you are."

"Isn't that a relief?" Sirius asked.

Cedric thought, not for the first time, that there was something going on between those two men he didn't quite understand yet. Which also reminded him of the conversation he had listened in on earlier that morning...

_Should I ask about it? Or should I let it lie? Maybe they'll say something._

"What time is it?" Harry asked, looking at his two adult guardians.

"Twenty past four," Remus said after casting a tempus charm. "You are allowed to use your magic here, Harry." He added with a slight smirk. 

Sirius nodded in agreement. "The Ministry can't tell. Not here, at least. At Privet Drive, it's a different story..."

Harry grinned, satisfied by that answer, and turned to Cedric. "Do you use you magic at home?" He inquired.

Cedric smiled sheepishly, not sure what to say to that. "I'm a Prefect, Harry!" He exclaimed. "I have to set a good example."

"So, I'm guessing from your tone that you do?" 

"Shhh." Cedric chuckled, pressing a finger to Harry's lips. "No one has to know." He whispered, leaning close to him as dramatically as he could. 

Harry, as per usual, looked utterly embarrased. 

Sirius burst out laughing, and as he did, the Polyjuice wore off and gave him his normal body back. Remus joined in too.

"You pair are ridiculous." Sirius sighed. "But I _am_ happy for you. I can imagine that it must be hard sometimes."

"Hard?" Cedric inquired, unabashedly wrapping an arm around Harry. "After the tournament, being with Harry is the least hard thing in my life."

Harry snickered at some misinterpretation, and Cedric lightly kicked his ankle.

"Hey!" 

"Come on, you two." Remus sighed. "I think Sirius was trying to segwey into something else. Weren't you?" He raised an eyebrow and gave him a meaningful look.

"Well, I suppose--"

Sirius didn't finish his sentence, as all of their attentions were snapped to the _crack_! in the living room. 

"Harry! Cedric!" 

Arthur Weasley tumbled into the room. "Oh, thank Merlin you're alright." He exhaled, his knees nearly buckling. 

Remus stood up, flicked his wand, and his boots went back on his feet. "What's the matter, Arthur? You look like you've seen death."

Mr. Weasley straightened himself. "I might as well have." He said, crossing his arms. "Death Eaters, at the Burrow. More specifically, at your house, Cedric." 

"What?!" The four of them exclaimed, frantically exchanging glances. 

"Is everyone alright?" Remus asked, drawing his wand. 

"Why are we still here?" Sirius cried, drawing his own. 

Cedric saw Harry opening his mouth to fit in his own response, but Mr. Weasley beat him to it. 

"I came to make sure Harry and Cedric were here, and _safe_." He emphasized, giving Harry a look. "That means none of you are going. Dumbledore is there; everything will be fine."

"Then you were a right idiot _telling_ us, weren't you?" Sirius spat, not waiting a moment to apparate away to the fight. 

"Damn it!" Arthur exclaimed. "Remus, you'll stay here, won't you? Make sure these two stay safe!" He said fervently, also apparating away back to protect his family. 

Remus frowned. "You two stay here." He said through clenched teeth. "So will I. I will stay here."

Harry shifted uncomfortably, stepping away towardsRemus, who looked already completely unsteady. He looked like his entire being was struggling not to apparate away that very moment.

"Come on, Remus." Harry insisted. "We can't just stay here! We have to go and help." He looked pleading, and not for the thrill of the fight. He was pleading from fear.

"Don't tempt me, Harry!" Remus snapped, moving away. "Sirius was an idiot. There are people there who wouldn't hesitate to kill him, if there really are Death Eaters there." He scowled, closing his eyes. 

"Harry. We can't. What if they were after us?" Cedric asked, shuddering when he remembered Arthur's words. 

_They were at my house. What did they want?_

Harry sighed, and placed a hand on Remus' shoulder in reassurance. "You're absolutely right." He agreed. "Which is why you have to stay, Cedric. It's your house they were after."

Something in Remus' expression snapped, showing he had lost all ties to Grimmauld in that face. He had given in, and apparated to the Death Eaters. 

And Cedric was left alone in the huge, empty house, without the ability to Apparate and without a supply of floo powder to get him to the Weasley's.

A heavy, despaired nausea pooled in his gut. Harry was right where the Death Eaters wanted him, he realized, and he wouldn't be there to save him.

He threw up on the spot. 

 

* * *

Harry was unused to the thrall of apparition, feeling sick as it unscrambled and rescrambled every particle of his body. 

Once back in place, he was in a new location--a hill nearby the Burrow. Now his feet were on steady ground, he immediately pitched over and vomited. He was dizzy, and as he reasserted himself, he saw there were six men in black robes, against Molly and Arthur Weasley and Cedric's mother. Sirius was nowhere to be found, and Harry hoped that wasn't for the worst. 

Remus rounded on him. "You _made_ me to that!" He hissed, dropping to the earth and pulling Harry into the grass. "Stay here." He ordered.

"No!" Harry protested. "I'm here for a reason. Aren't I the reason there's fighting?"

"You can't go into battle, Harry," Remus snapped, rolling to a sitting position. 

"I fought in the Tournament!" He retorted. "And you taught me well. I'm good at dueling."

Remus snorted. "Please, Harry. Show some humility and _stay here."_

"Pretending to be a Hufflepuff won't help me here!" Harry cried, getting to his feet. "Let me fight and I can help even the numbers."

Remus didn't respond. There was a loud yelping sound, and they were both to their feet. A large black dog, Sirius, was attacking one of the Death Eaters. 

Remus didn't spare another moment to go help him. Neither did Harry. Overtaken by a swell of Gryffindor courage, he charged down the hill, his wand drawn. 

The Death Eaters immediately noticed him, and delighted cackles filled the air. Several hexes flashed past him, and Sirius brought down one of the Death Eaters. 

Remus cast several rapid-fire spells that hardly phased the enemy, though one of them began to limp. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw an orange hex flying at him, and he ducked into the grass. 

Sliding quickly to his feet, he was hit in the shoulder by a red spell that caused him to start bleeding. In response, Molly Weasley shot a black hex at the offender, who crumpled to the ground. 

"Where's the boy toy we've heard so much about?" A Death Eater taunted Harry from behind. 

He spun on his heels and cast Expelliarmus, and Sirius took the advantage to take the Death Eater down. 

Mrs. Diggory screeched as a yellow hex tore down her left side, and she crumpled to the ground. Distracted, Harry felt something dig into the back of his knee, like a barb. He, too, fell to the earth.

A cloaked woman with an unfamiliar face appeared above him, staring him down with a wand pointed at him. She smirked. "Oh, lovely. I get the honor." She purred. 

"Don't you dare!" Remus roared. 

He was too late to stop her, however. She uttered a spell he had never heard, and all at once a constricting heat filled his chest. It turned to an icy sting, pricking at his lungs with every panted breath. 

He lost track of time, feeling only new surges of pain throughout his body, like someone had planted a snake inside of his abdomen and it was writing around inside of him, biting every piece of flesh it could touch. 

And this snake did not respond to Parseltongue. It ignored his pleading cries and hisses, relentlessly ripping apart his innards. 

It became all he could be aware of. He no longer knew where he was, who was around him, or even if he was alive. Part of him, the part that could still think, was certain that the Death Eaters had put him into a torturous comatose state. He thought that they had won, that they had him now. Perhaps they would keep him like this until they had ressurected Voldemort so that he could kill him. 

He didn't know how long it had been or where he was when suddenly the pain in his abdomen stopped, and he became aware of his surroundings again. Now, only his his shoulder and his knee were in pain. There was an inexplicable dull throbbing in his other leg, too.

There was a quiet whispering next to him, and he decided to listen to it with closed eyes before he said anything. After all, what if the Death Eaters really did have him. The voices were quiet, and so he did not recognize them. 

"The Dursley's were hit badly, too. They were found beat up and with the Dark Mark above their house." Someone whispered. "I don't trust Dumbledore to be the one to Obliviate them. He might have them take Harry back."

"Fuck that." Another voice snapped. "He won't be any better there. See what good 'blood protection' did them from Voldemort's lackeys." There was a scoff, and then some coughing.

So, they probably weren't Death Eaters. What if they were prisoners to the Death Eaters?

"What will we do, if he doesn't wake up?" The first voice asked, after a long pause. 

The other huffed. "I'm sure someone else will figure it out. I bet the journalists are already lining up to see who gets to cover this story--Harry Potter: The Boy Who Died."

"Don't joke about that!" The first voice hissed. 

"I'm sorry." The second voice murmured. "You know this is how I cope, Remus."

Harry's eyes shot open immediately. Remus. He wasn't in the hands of Death Eaters; he was in a room with Remus, and he realized the other voice must have been Sirius--probably under Polyjuice.

He tried to speak, but his voice just let out a small crack. He couldn't sit up, either; he was left to just stare at the white ceiling above him.

"Did you hear that?" Remus asked.

Harry tried to croak again, this time managing to say Remus' name. 

"Harry!" They both cried, and then they were both at his side, looking down at him. Sirius had apparently gotten more polyjuice, as the other man besides Remus was slightly younger and with lighter, shorter hair. 

Harry coughed a bit, finding some more strength in his voice. "What happened?"

"You're in St. Mungo's." Sirius-not-Sirius informed him. "Once the Death Eaters struck you down, they all retreated. You've been unconscious for two days."

"T-two days?" Harry stuttered, feeling weaker at the thought. "How am I alive?" After all that pain... He thought he could have died. 

Remus smiled compassionately. "We apparated you here as soon as we could, though we accidentally splinched your good foot a bit. They fixed that, too, along with the other hexes you were hit with."

Harry frowned. Two days under some kind of torture spell... 

"What did they get me with?" He asked, remembering the feeling of the snake.

Remus shared a look with the polyjuiced Sirius.

"We don't know." Sirius told him. "You were unconscious, mumbling in Parseltongue. It was terrifying."

Harry groaned. "You could hear the Parseltongue?"

"It's quite a relief to hear you use English." Remus replied carefully.

"Oh." Harry paused. "Can I get something to stop all this pain?" 

"What, from the Splinch or the hex? It's all healed up, according to the nurses. Why would it hurt?" Sirius inquired. 

Remus scowled. "Just go find a nurse, Padfoot. I'll talk to him." He sat down on Harry's bed as Sirius scampered away. 

"What hurts, Harry?" He asked quietly. 

"The curse, whatever it was that knocked me out. It felt like a snake was eating me from the inside out." Harry explained, trying to prop himself up. He realized he was in flimsy hospital gown, and it was cold without the cover of the blanket.

"It did?" Remus asked, with a frown. "For how long?"

Harry grimaced, meeting Remus' eye. "For two days, apparently. Would you happen to know what it is?" He asked.

Remus took a moment, and then nodded gravely. "I might. Let me speak to the nurse. Looks like she's here now." He got up to meet her outside of the room, and Harry could not overhear their hushed whispers.

Especially not when they were drowned out by the familar cry of Ron and Hermione. 

"Harry!" They both exclaimed, rushing over to his bedside. 

"Are you alright?" Hermione demanded, pulling up a chair next to him. "We were worried you wouldn't wake up."

"I'm fine." He assured her, turning to look at Ron, who let out a shaky breath.

"This is better." Ron said. "Now I can just sort of tell myself you had another bad Quidditch mishap."

Harry looked between the both of them, trying to piece together his last memory. "Where were you two when the Death Eaters came? You look alright."

They shared a look.

"Viktor, Ron, and I were out at the theater." Hermione explained. "Ginny and the twins stayed at the Burrow."

Harry, suddenly alarmed, tried to sit up further. "Are they alright?" He demanded.

"They're fine, mate," Ron assured him. "They stayed inside, though Fred and George managed to shoot a few fireworks at them." 

Harry let out a small, relieved laugh. "And Cedric?" He asked, his absence suddenly feeling like a hole in the air. 

Hermione and Ron shared that look again. Ron looked away, and Hermione bit her lip.

"He's with Mrs. Diggory." She sais quietly. "She's not doing so well."

Harry's head dropped. He remembered seeing her fall. He hoped she was alright. 

"Don't worry, mate," Ron assured him hesitantly. "He was in here a while, too. And he'll be back soon! Once he knows you're awake."

Then, there was a crashing of footsteps through the door. 

"Speak of the devil," Ron murmured. 

Cedric appeared, panting and looking terribly urgent. 

"You're alright!"

He rushed to Harry's side, Ron making room for him.

"Gods, Harry, you're a fucking idiot." Cedric muttered, taking his hand. "You knew he would apparate you out! And you left me! I thought you had died." He said desperately. 

"Sorry?" Harry replied, squeezing Cedric's hand as a reminder of his presence.

"That's all I get?" Cedric demanded. "This is worse than any of the tasks, and all I get is a sorry?" 

Remus poked his head in. "Leave it be. He needs to rest." He ordered. 

Sirius entered, crossing his arms. "We all have to leave soon, anyway. Family only after eight o' clock." He said.

Harry sighed. "So, unless the Dursley's visit... I'm alone tonight?" He asked.

Sirius frowned. "Yes, I'm afraid. Unless Remus and I have a little chat with Dumbledore and legally adopt you."

"The two of you?" Harry asked, incredulous but elated at the prospect. 

"Another story for another time," he replied. "We have to go. We'll fill you in on the Dursley situation later, too. And Dumbledore." He added with a scowl.

"Bye, Harry." Ron muttered sorely.

"Feel better soon!" Hermione added, exiting the room. 

Cedric lingered a moment, not letting go of Harry's hand.

"You're still an idiot." He said at last, releasing his grip. "Just wait till you read the papers." 

He got up and left, leaving Harry completely alone in the hospital room. A few minutes later, however, a nurse came in with a tray of potions and some kind of gruel. 

"That Lupin fellow of yours is very smart, Mr. Potter," she remarked. "Were it not for him, we wouldn't know what the problem was. Drink these, and we'll have you out in a few more days." She handed him a red bottle, and its contents smelled positively foul.

Harry grimaced as he prepared to swallow the potion. 

"He was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," he told her, "so I'm not surprised he knew."

* * *

Lucius picked up the newspaper his house elf had just delivered to him. He rarely read the _Prophet_ , but now he was doing so just to ensure his plan had played out in the end. 

The front page was devoted to Potter's closely upcoming release from St. Mungo's. His ailments had not been fatal, and the effects were not permanent. He would be fine.

Which was good. A dead Potter was no use to Lucius.

It went on to discuss the nature of his Death Eaters' attacks on the Weasley and Diggory households, as well as a brief touch on the Dursley attacks. Dumbledore had found the muggles. How strange. 

Lucius also noted with satisfaction that it had done everything he had hoped for. Everyone was terrified, and they were all awaiting the rise of the Dark Lord now. 

He hoped his Lord was pleased.

Or perhaps not. Either way, Lucius had proven his ability to lead others. And lead them in a way that it had obvious effect on those around him. 

All he had to do next was free the Death Eaters in Azkaban. Then, he would have an even wider following (for his Lord, of course), and all those cowards who had abandoned him would come running back. 

It would be brilliant. 

For now, however, Lucius had to focus on the werewolves. And what to do with them? Ardfyn had a most curious change of heart. He requested that his wife and daughter be put into St. Mungo's, and that his own name be cleared. He asked that the werewolf who bit him (who was now dead already), be formally blamed for the crime, and that Ardfyn's own name to be changed so that he might resume a new identity in the wizarding world.

All of which were things Lucius could do, of course. He had already sent all the necessary letters, and he decided he might even drop by St. Mungo's to visit the broken family (and Potter, of course). 

The one thing that Lucius was not sure he wanted to do (though most definitely could) was Ardfyn's final request. Along with his new identity, he wanted a new job. More specifically, a job as the Defense teacher at Hogwarts, which was the only space that remained empty still. 

Lucius could see how it might benefit both of them, of course. He had already written a letter to the other Board members, who would in turn reccomend Ardfyn. Or, rather, they would reccomend Callum Offrey, his new alias, who was a former Auror in Denmark and waa most definitely not a werewolf.

He would do it, of course. But he did not quite trust Ardfyn... Which was all the more reason to let him have the job and have Draco keep an eye on him, he supposed. 

Now, though, he was headed to St. Mungo's, where he would obvliviate the Ardfyn family. Phillip Ardfyn would be dead and innocent, and Callum Offrey would be the new Defense Teacher at Hogwarts. 

Provided, of course, that he and the other half breeds managed to free the Death Eaters. Then, he would agree to their terms. 

Once at St. Mungo's, the wife and daughter were easy to obliviate. They were in the mental ward, separated from one another, fast asleep. Their caretakers would see their sudden change of story as a method to cope with their new environment. They woyld also find that this new story fit in better with the Auror's "official" account, which had not existed until Malfoy had one of his favors fill it in. 

When that was done, he found his way to Potter. He was fast asleep and all alone, without anyone close to comfort him. 

Lucius knew what curse had been used on the boy. A lovely form of torture it was, though useless if one wanted information. Thus, it was perfect for Potter. His intestines probably still ached. 

He smirked, wishing the boy knew he was there. He wouldn't wake, however; not after the sleeping potions. Instead, Lucius drew his wand and began carving a message into the back of Potter's hand. 

_Never let a sleeping werewolf lie._

That would hopefully confund him. It was a fair warning, still. Hopefully, it would turn him away from his precious Lupin, and the tamer pack of Blindeye's.

And he would never suspect his new Defense teacher, would he?


	12. Chapter 12

Ardfyn felt overdressed. For the first time in six months, he was wearing proper dress robes. The soft cloth felt foreign and loose over his skin.

"You look like one of _them_." Godwyn accused, circling him. "Why?"

He tilted his chin upward in visible disdain. "Because I have a job interview." He informed her, conjuring a reflection to view himself in. 

It was nice to be back in robes, he decided. 

The wolf in him snarled in disagreement. He told it to be quiet, that this was a compromise.

"What?" She demanded, stepping closer and shoving him. "What about the pack?"

He turned to face her, and the reflection vanished. "I have to do this, Wyn. We need power within them to achieve our goals." He spoke softly, coaxingly. He was learning how to control himself--both his human side and his wolf side. 

"What goals?" She snapped. "We were going to be free in the woods, without the wizards. We don't need power there!"

He sighed. "Godwyn." He shook his head, and he was the one circling her. "Godwyn, Godwyn! They would  never leave us alone. They would hunt us down. For wolves like us, it's either the sewer," he cringed, recalling his home in Blindeye's Underground, "or the castle."

She scoffed. "What castle?" 

"Hogwarts, of course." He chuckled. "Malfoy has secured me a position there. They won't know I'm a werewolf, of course, but on full moons I have the entire Forbidden Forest to run in."

Godwyn backed away. "This is what you wanted all along, wasn't it? A place with them?" 

He turned and looked her in the eye. "I don't know." He confessed. "I haven't enjoyed the pack, so perhaps I should do what others have done and live a secret life." 

She scowled. "And obtain power. What will you do with it?"

He shrugged. "Revenge." That was an easy answer. She didn't need to know about his plan to hurt Lucius. Or any of his other... Fantasies. He blamed the wolf.

"What, by eating their children?"

He cringed. It was only half-true.

"Don't act like I didn't see you during the hunt." She whispered. "I saw the way you devoured that child. You loved it. You crave it." She stood on her toes, and her breath tickled his ear. 

He moved away from her. "And if I do, then I take advantage of it. But first, we have to do the prison break."

She snorted, sitting down on the ground. "Seventeen more days." She muttered. "Then we can kill Fenrir, and then your Malfoy has to pay up to the rest of us."

Ardfyn nodded, sitting down with her. The cabin floor beneath him was cold. They ans the rest of their pack had taken refuge in the home they had targeted during the hunt.

"What has he promised you?" He asked her. "He has offered me much."

She sighed. "He's helping us start our pack. Though I thought you would take part, too."

"I will, occasionally. But I need to be part of the Wizarding World to achieve my goals."

Godwyn scowled. "And pay off Malfoy, no doubt. You're his pet."

He smirked. "Not for long."

* * *

Harry had finallt been released from the hospital, after a week there. Cedric helped take him bavk to Grimmauld, where Sirius had convinced Dumbledore was the safest location for him. 

The visit to the hospital and the events preceding it had been cataclysmic. Suddenly, everyone's perspective had changed. It was now clear that the Death Eaters were a threat, and they had new ideas as to how to deal with them.

Harry and Cedric had also been informed, finally, of the events at the meeting. The werewolves working for Malfoy, in particular, had made for disturbing news to the boys. 

Back at Grimmauld Place, another meeting had been held to discuss it. The werewolves on _their_ side, however, had little to tell them that had helped. Thus, the meeting had been mostly fruitless.

The only thing that they had decided was that Harry was safer with Remus now, and that before Sirius could take legal guardianship over Harry, he had to have his trial. 

Dumbledore was there, and he wasn't as upset this time. He knew his argument had been invalidated, rhat was clear enough. He left early again, anyways. 

"I must be off now; I have an interview with the new Defense teacher," he told them, winking at Harry. In a moment, he had apparated away.

"Cheers." Sirius said blandly.

"It's a hard job to keep," Remus added philosophically. 

"Speaking of Hogwarts," Tonks called, "how are we feeling about sending Harry back to school in two weeks?"

Everyone at the table exchanged looks, waiting for the next to speak up. 

"He'll be safe there," Molly said. "And he'll be plenty far away from these werewolf politics."

"Hey!" Gray exclaimed. "We're not all like that."

Remus nodded sagely. "I think she still meant us. After all, aren't we the only ones who can stop Malfoy's Wolves?" He asked. 

There was a collective groan. 

"What are we supposed to do about that, anyway?" Arthur asked.

Viktor, at the end of the table, lifted his head. "I will help." He said. "I must do something."

"That would be brilliant," Cilla grunted, "if we actually knew anything about when they are planning the prison break."

There was a murmur of agreement. 

"We'll have to fins out, then." Sirius agreed. "Let's see what we can plot, yeah?"

* * *

 It was past midnight. Harry was curled close to Cedric, who had been staying over once every two or three nights. He stayed home most of the time with his parents. Mrs. Diggory was still recovering from the battle wounds. 

"Are you awake?" Harry asked him, knowing he was. His breathing wasn't as slow was his sleeping breathing usually was. 

Cedric rolled over to face him. "Yeah. What is it?"

"I miss Hogwarts." Harry whispered.  

Cedric chuckled, and then trailed his fingers down Harry's face. "The Prefect's Bath is rather nice, isn't it?"

Harry scoffed. "That isn't what I meant."

He did agree, though, and was reminded why as Cedric chose to begin kissing him along his neck. 

"You sure?" Cedric breathed. 

"No." Harry replied. "But I miss the castle. And the Lake. And classes."

Cedric sighed. "Are you going to keep on jabbering?"

"Yes. That's why I woke you up."

"I was alreasy awake... But fine. What's on your mind?" Cedric asked.

"Voldemort. What else?" Harry replied. He folded his arms and stared up at the ceiling. 

He heard Cedric sigh next to him. "Right," Cedric said. "Voldemort. I really wish I could say that you don't have to worry, that everything will be okay... But I honestly don't know, Harry. I'm sorry. But I'll do everything I can to help."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled. He paused for a moment, thinking some more. Learning about Malfoy's werewolves had left him reeling, as if learning about the Dursley's hadn't been bad enough....

"You still awake, there?"

"Yeah. Sorry, Ced." Harry murmured, a chill coming over him. He pulled the blanket up further and disregarded the coarse wool scratching his face. "I was just thinking about the werewolves... Do you think the Order can stop them?" 

"I don't know. They'll sure as hell try, though." Cedric affirmed. "That's not your job to worry about. Let's just enjoy these last few weeks as much as we can, and then we'll worry about school and teachers and Dark Lords and werewolves." 

Harry sat up with a jolt, startling Cedric. Harry didn't care, though, and he jumped out of the warm bed onto the splintered wood floor. He frantically stumbled over to his trunk. 

"What is it?" Cedric demanded. "Is everythinh alright?"

Harry rummaged through the trunk. "No, no..." He muttered. 

"What is it?"

He stood up and turned around. "I haven't done hardly any of my summer work!" He cried, feeling a different kind of dread fill him. It distracted him from bigger things, though.

Cedric's eyes widened. "Shit. Neither have I." He got out of bed and joined Harry. "Are we going to get started right now?"

"Why not?" Harry grumbled. "We're not sleeping anyway..."

He felt extremely frustrated. Usually, at the Dursley's, he had plenty of time to do his work. But not this summer... He was much more distracted. 

* * *

Remus got up early that morning. He heard the rustle of movement a few doors down, so he knew the boys must have been up. He wondered if those two actually ever got any rest...

With a sigh, he hauled himself downstairs. Even if he was an incurable morning person, it helped little when it was so early. The sun wouldn't be up for a few hours yet, and even he wanted to be in bed. 

Sirius was still fast asleep. He would be little help this morning, but Remus still wished for his company. He had gotten far too used to it, and everyone was beginning to notice. 

He wondered when he would have to tell Harry about him and Sirius. Was it clear enough that they had practically agreed to co-parent him? Harry was bright enough to figure it out...

He snapped back to reality as he stubbed his toe on the edge of a table. He hissed under his breath and stumbled past it. He pulled out his wand and summoned his boots. 

He wouldn't be staying in this morning. He had a strange feeling in his gut, almost like it was a blue moon. 

Of course, it wasn't. He wouldn't be transforming tonight... That was two weeks away. But the wolf was scratching away at him, asking for... For something.

He pulled on his robe found his way to the front door, sliding out into the early morning. It was raining, and the air tasted metallic. 

He didn't know where he was supposed to go. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, letting his magic and his wolf Apparate him to wherever he was supposed to be. 

Perhaps that was foolish. But the more primal parts of him seldom lied. They would take him to where he needed to be. 

 _Snap_. 

He was underground. The earth above him resonated and seemed to push down on him. The air smelled putrid and foul, clogging his lungs. 

Was he in a den? Perhap's Blindeye's? Or worse, Ardfyn's? Perhaps that would be better, though...

But no. This was not a den. It was too dark... too Dark...

He heard something scream, and he immediately cast a Disillusionment charm. His eyes slowly adjusted.

"Malfoy is a hack," someone whispered fervently. 

There was a loud crunching noise. 

"A hack! Hack, hack, hack."

More crunching. And squelching. Remus recoiled. 

"Malfoy didn't do this for you. I did. I am. Aren't you happy? Eat up." The voice sounded maniacal, cracking at every other word. "Malfoy is not on your side. You will punish him, won't you? I've heard whispers of his selfish betrayal.... And even more still think you shan't return!"

The somethinh screamed again.

"No, no more unicorn's blood." The voice replied. "Too expensive... And you know how it goes."

_Unicorn's blood? What the hell?_

"I have a few more tasks left, my Lord. But I assure you, all will be well by Hallow's Eve, and you will be risen..."

Remus stifled a gasp. It was too loud, though. The screaming commenced again.

"What was that?" The voice hissed. 

Remus startled, but closed his eyes. He Apparated away as soon as he could. 

When he opened them again, he was back in Grimmauld. His boots were gone, and the space in bed next to him was empty. Sirius was already up. 

"What a strange dream." He said aloud.

* * *

Sirius got up at the crack of dawn, which he normally didn't do. But Remus was tossing and turning, and he could hear Harry and Cedric were already up. 

He knocked on their door. "Good morning," he called.

"Morning." Two hazy voices called. 

"You can come in." Harry added. 

Sirius rolled his eyes and opened the door. Harry was sprawled on the floor, surrounded by books and notes. Cedric was at the desk, more slumped over than usual. 

"What on earth are you doing?" Sirius demanded. "Did you pull an all nighter? And not even the fun kind?"

Harry groaned. "Yeah. School is soon."

Sirius frowned. "Aren't you two tires? Why are you even doing this? Studying is for the last minute."

Cedric turned his head. "This _is_ last minute."

Sirius chuckled. "You two know nothing about real procrastination." He remembered his days with James... They never did their work. It took Remus' nagging and copies of Peter's notes to get them to do anything. 

"Hermione might beg to differ." Harry muttered, glaring at a sheet of paper. 

"Come downstairs," Sirius advised, "and have some Pepperup potion. And some breakfast. You've tired yourselves out."

They both let out a sigh of relief and dropped their quills at once. 

Sirius grinned. "And if you're lucky, I might teach you some dueling spells. You never know when you might need them."

He said it mirthfully, but he was imagining darker things. After Harry's incident in battle, he didn't want to risk him going defenseless. He would rather Harry study useful spells than whatever Potions homework Snivellus assigned him...

The boys had their breakfast and finished off a bottle of potions each. He kept his word and began teaching them his best hexes. 

Remus came down a half hour later. He looked tired and a bit befuddled. 

"I had the strangest dream," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "And you weren't even in bed, so I suppose that's why you didn't wake me."

Sirius frowned, glancing at Harry and Cedric, who had ceased their practice. 

Remus then noticed that he and Sirius weren't alone. He topk a step back. 

"Oh. Good morning, you two. I didn't see you there."

Cedric grinned back at them. "Of course you didn't, Remus. You've only eyes for one."

Remus looked taken aback, and Sirius would have snickered. 

"Excuse me?" He asked. 

"You and Padfoot are together. I figured it out." Cedric told them. 

Harry dropped his wand. "What?"

"So, the truth is out." Sirius sighed. "Just tell me the dream, Remus."

Of course, everything had to come back to the Dark Lord. Even their dreams. 

Sirius had a sudden urge to teach the boys a few more spells. And write some letters. 

When did he begin to be so worried about everything?

 


	13. Chapter 13

The last two weeks of summer were blisfully without conflict. Cedric spent a good portion of it taking care of his mother, but they flew away fast. He had just barely managed to finish his summer homework the day he went back to Platform 9 3/4. 

It wasn't until he was on the platform, saying goodbye to his parents, that he realized it would be his last time going back to Hogwarts. He was beginning his Seventh year, whereas Harry was only in his Fifth. 

Strange. 

He met with Harry on the train, who looked a little sad. He was sitting with Ron and Hermione, though, so at least he was in good company. 

He leaned on the edge of the compartment door. "What's up?" He asked. 

Harry looked up at him in surprise. "Oh. Hi, Cedric," he greeted. "Care to sit?"

He shrugged. "Nah," he admitted, "I actually wanted to catch up with friends I haven't seen over the summer. I just wanted to make sure you were alright." He said. 

Harry smiled at him. "I'm fine," he said. "Just worried for Remus. He transforms tonight." 

That didn't sound like a good thing. "Well, thank Merlin for Wolfsbane, right?" He asked. 

"More like thank Snape." Harry replied grudgingly. 

The train began to move, and Cedric took that as his cue to go join his friend. 

Alfred was waiting for him in a compartment with Eliza and Gunther, two other Hufflepuffs in their year. 

"It's the last one, fellows," Cedric said as he sat down. "Onto new horizons." 

They all laughed. "Sure it is!" They agreed. 

They chattered cheerfully about their plans for the year. They all had less classes to take, but more NEWTS to worry about. 

It was sort of blissful to not be around the Boy Who Lived, to be around ordinary people who weren't worried about Voldemort and giving him his comeuppance. He wouldn't tell Harry that, of course. 

But it was nice all the same. He felt as though he had nothing to worry about. 

* * *

"You've taken the wolfsbane this week?" Malfoy asked the group. "All of you?"

Ardfyn rolled his eyes. Malfoy was an overbearing prick, but he had to listen to him.

"Yes, they've taken the Wolfsbane. We'll transform as soon as the moon comes up, and we'll follow your orders completely," he replied.  The sun was just beginning to go down. He would be missing his opening Feast at Hogwarts. 

That would be fine. Teachers didn't get in trouble for being late. And how could they blame him--or Professor Callum Offrey, rather--just for missing his train?

Malfoy nodded. "Excellent. I will stay here on shore to direct the boats. You will board at nightfall."

And then he repeated the plan to them at least sixteen times, until the sun went down. Then, when it was dark, they all climbed into the boats. 

Malfoy was onshore, directing the boats with magic. If anything happened to him, they were stranded. 

The moon had yet to rise or the stars to appear, so Ardfyn enjoyed the quite nether of twlight. The water reflected purple and radiated warmth, compared to the cool chill of the air. His companions beside him breathed softly, but their hearts thumped in anticipation. 

Then, three quarters of the way to the rocky island of Azkaban, the moon rose. 

Ardfyn felt his limbs lurch and his bones snap into different places and new muscles materialize. But there was not the usual loss of consciousness--he stayed awake the entire time. It was excruciating. 

By the time they were at the island, they had all transformed. 

Ardfyn could smell the dementors as soon as they hit shore. He felt no emotion, but what he smelled... It smelled like despair. He wished he didn't have to smell it. 

They trotted on shore, and the rocks that lined the beach were sharp and black and cut their paws. There was a path up to the prison--how else would they transport prisoners?--which they followed. 

At the gate, they stopped. None of them knew what to do from here, as they hadn't had any inside access. 

That was when Ardfyn met the dementor. 

He smelled it more than he saw it; he hasn't realized the wolf's eyes were so poor. It existed around him. Hr could feel it. 

"What are you?" It asked in a voice that was not quite language. 

"A friend." Ardfyn replied, in an equally wordless response. 

"I have no friends but my brothers." It spat back. "Why are you here?"

Ardfyn invountarily tucked his tail between his legs. 

"To do my job." He answered. "Isn't that all we can do?"

The Dementor seemed to understand that, as a slave to wizards itself. 

"The humans fear us," Ardfyn said. "But we must serve them. How fair is that?"

"Not." The Dementor replied. 

"Then be fair and help me. I must kill one of your prisoners."

The Dementor made a sound like screaming and sucking. It must have been laughter. 

"That is not fair. Only I can kill my prisoners." It seemed to think that was funny. 

"Says who?" Ardfyn demanded. 

The Dementor paused. "Humans." It said. Then, "Fine. I allow entrance to you and your companions. But only because we have nor spoken to others in many years."

Ardfyn liked that answer. Dementors were stupid. Easy to manipulate. 

The gate opened, and the wolves rushed in. 

They each had their own Death Eater to find and release. Once they did that, they were free to find Fenrir and kill him. 

Which would be difficult, considering that he had transformed as well. 

Ardfyn rushed through the cells, looking for Bellatrix Lestrange. She was not hard to find, he realized: she smellec of insanity, but there was something that reminded him of Malfoy's scent as well. 

She was staring blankly at a wall. 

"Hello, wolfie." She said blandly. "Have you come to kill me? Or am I hallucinating again?"

The cells were magical walls, not actually solid. As it happened, werewolves were extremely magically resistant, so Ardfyn passed through without an issue. 

From there, he had two options, depending on how smart Lestrange was. If she could figure out how to ride on his back, he could carry her. If not, he would have to bite her. 

She was smart. She latched onto his fur and he carried her out. From there, barefoot and wandless and dressed in rags, she would have to find her way to shore. 

She let out a whoop of victory. 

He ran further into Azkaban to find Fenrir Greyback. 

Godwyn had beaten him to it, though. Their former leader was bound to the wall in silver chains, and Godwyn was darting back in forth, nipping him while avoiding the metal. 

Fenrir fought back, but feebly. It was hardly a fair fight, and Ardfyn decided not to join in. He let Godwyn do her work. 

She ripped his stomach open first, letting the entrails spill out. She let him suffer for a while before she went for his throat. 

Her defeat over Greyback meant she was the new pack leader. 

He didn't care. He was returning to the wizard's world for his revenge. 

After that, their time at Azkaban was short. They had to hurry back to shore before the Dementors tired of them or the alarms were raised. 

The Death Eaters, weakened as they were, helped Malfoy pull the boats back to shore. Most likely, they were fueled by exhileration. 

The water glowed in the moonlight. Ardfyn thought it a shame to be confined to a boat. 

They arrived on shore faster this time. The wolves leapt onto shore, some faster than others. 

"You made it back." Malfoy greeted them. "Every Death Eater in tact."

The wolves, of course, could not reply. 

"Lucius!" Lestrange cried, charging to him and locking him in a strangling embrace. "Surely this means the Dark Lord is risen?"

The Death Eaters cheered. Some of the wolves howled as well. 

Malfoy pushed her away. "Not exactly." He said. 

"Not exactly?" Several Death Eaters repeated back. 

"He is in an inferior physical form." Malfoy said with a scowl. "Yaxley has him. I don't know how he has progressed in reviving him."

"How responsible of you," the one called Rosier sneered. "You came here blindly to free us, without our Lord's orders?"

"I did it to aid the resurgence of his power." Malfoy replied hesitantly. 

"Whatever!" Bellatrix exclaimed. "We can work out the details later. Where are we going, Lucius? The Manor?"

Malfoy sniffed distastefully. "Of course. Until I secure somewhere less conspicuous." 

The Death Eaters did not wait for a reply before Apparating. The wolves quickly scattered. 

And then it was just Malfoy and Ardfyn. He waited patiently. 

"Won't you run, too?" Malfoy demanded, sounding bitter. 

Ardfyn did not move. He lay down and crossd his paws. 

"Of course." Malfoy scowled. "I'm your ride to Hogwarts."

Two tail thumps in response. 

"Well?" He asked, waving his hand. "Let's go."

Ardfyn yelped. Wolves can hardly Apparate. 

"We have to walk?" Lucius demanded. "You planned this! You're going to kill me."

Ardfyn complacently began walked again. He wanted to kill Malfoy eventually, but he had long since decided he wanted to kill him while in human form. Besides, he needed him for the short forseeable future. 

Malfoy began trodding after him. "You're rather boring as a wolf," he admitted. "I can hardly hate you if there's no face to trigger the emotion."

That didn't dignify a response. 

"I suppose you think me foolish," he grumbled. "That I didn't plan this out at all. That I'm going about it the wrong way."

One tail wag. Yes, Malfoy was stupid. He was definitely doing it wrong. He probably realized it when he met the real Death Eaters. 

"I didn't think they'd immediately ask for the Dark Lord," he confessed. "I thought perhaps they might blindly follow me a while. Like the ones that helped me attack Potter and Diggory."

That earned a howl. Just for honesty. 

"I suppose they'll go for Yaxley for orders now."

Definitely. 

"Do you think I'll be punished?"

He had no idea. 

* * *

 

Yaxley was deep underground still. He still had his Lord. He still had the dead, decaying bodies. 

The potion was done brewing. He had the sacrifice prepared, the altar enchanted. 

"My Lord, it is ready." He promised. 

Yaxley's eldest son lay on a bed of magic and air, floating atop the steaming cauldron. He had forced a liter of it down the young man's throat just ten minutes ago. 

It was not hard to sacrifice his son, he found. His mind was long gone. But some deep part of him still aches when he watched his little boy, now grown up, slip into the netherworld. Limbo.

But his body was young and fresh and healthy. Perfect for his Lord. It would fulfil a greater purpose. 

He slid mandrake heart into his Lord's mouth, careful to avoid the spiky teeth. Then, he poured the potion into its screaming mouth. 

It gurgled, and then it closed its eyes for the first time. 

Yaxley did not allow himself a moment for relief, however. He placed the thing into the cauldron. 

This had better work, he thought. Otherwise, he would be boiling his master's only physical body to death. 

And it might not. The ritual was meant to slip one consciousness in a dying body into that of a healthy one. It was rarely performed because the soul in the healthy body was merely displaced. 

Poof. 

He was not sure if it would work because his Lord was more than any conscious mortal. What if he was too great, too magnificent?

But there was no such thing. He saw the potion's steam turn black and green. It was fragmented, not a whole soul...

It drifted into the body. 

It's eyes opened. 

In a voice that was not quite his son's, it said one thing. 

"I'm here."

Yaxley laughed, and fell to his knees. 

Lord Voldemort was back. 

 


	14. Chapter 14

Cedric had been home at Hogwarts not even for one night when he awoke feeling something was wrong. 

It was pulsing deep inside of him. _Wrong. Wrong. Wrong._

He wasn't Harry; he didn't have a magic scar to validate his feelings or a map to tell him where to go or an invisibility cloak to get him there. 

He laid there for ten minutes, debating wether or not it was a nightmare that had left him feeling so dreadful. After that, his conscience took over, and he ran out of the dorm. 

The only place he could think to go was to Dumbledore's office. He knew the way, so he ran. He luckily did not run into Filch or his cat. 

He did, however, run into a problem. He didn't know the password to get into the Headmaster's office. 

"Shit." He whispered. His best bet was to guess candy names.

"Peppermint poppers!" He shouted at the gargoyle. 

Nothing. 

"Love dreams?" He guessed. 

Nope. 

"Orange crystals."

Nothing moved. 

He felt the need to curse. He punched the door. "Fizzing whizbees!" He hissed. He picked it up from a Hufflepuff firstie the year before.

Surprisingly, the passage opened. 

"Fizzing whizbees?" He repeated to himself, awestruck. 

Then, he ran down the stairs into Dumbledore's study. 

"Professor!" He cried out. 

When he got there, he saw Harry was already there, collapsed in a chair across from a concerned looking Dumbledore, a stricken McGonagall, and a poker-faced Snape. 

"Diggory?" McGonagall inquired. 

"I had a gut feeling." He replied, panting. 

"But the password!" She whispered. 

He shrugged. "I cussed at it."

"Fizzing whizbees?" Dumbledore asked. 

"Yes." He replied. 

Snape scowled. "Hufflepuffs." He scoffed. 

Dumbledore allowed himself a small laugh. "While your humor is appreciated, Cedric, I doubt it can help in this situation." He said gravely. 

Cedric moved to the chair where Harry was passed out. His eyes were twitching beneath their lids and even in his sleep he looked concerned. 

"Is he alright?" Cedric asked. 

"No." McGonagall admitted. "He came to me in a fervor a half hour ago. All he could say was 'he's back, he's back' over and over again. Then, he fainted and I brought him here." 

Cedric swallowed. "Does that mean what I think it means?" He asked quietly. 

"Perhaps." Dumbledore replied. 

"Then why don't we wake him up?" Cedric demanded, reaching for Harry's limp hand. "Who knows what he's seeing in there?" He suddenly felt desparately afraid. What if the Dark Lord was in Harry's mind?

"No!" Snape hissed. "If you pull him out of the connection unnaturally, it could damage him."

Cedric didn't know what to do. He was at a loss for words and feeling completelt helpless. 

"Go to sleep, Diggory." McGonagall advised. 

"I can't."

Snape sighed and produced a vial from his robes. "Drink this. It will put you to sleep." 

Cedric wasn't sure if he could trust anything Snape gave him, but he took it from him. 

Instead of leaving like they probably expected, he curled up into the chair next to Harry's and drank the potion. He was out in minutes. 

* * *

The next morning in the Great Hall was hell. 

Everyone was in a panic over the headlines in the news. Every Death Eater in Azkaban had escaped. 

Combined with whatever Harry had been talking about the night before, it most certainly was not good news. It seemed as though no one had heard about that, though. 

Cedric hadn't yet found out the details, either. He grabbed Harry when he was exiting the Great Hall. 

"Hey," he said. "Do you have class now?"

Harry nodded. "Obviously. Don't you?"

Cedric didn't. Being a Seventh Year, he had a few extra free periods. He had forgotten that Harry didn't. 

"I don't," he admitted. "But can you skip?" He asked. 

Harry frowned. "I guess. It's only History of Magic... But isn't skipping the first class on the first day bad luck or something?" 

"Things are already bad enough," Cedric hissed. "A little bad luck won't kill us." 

Then, so as not to arouse suspicion, he kissed Harry and dragged him off to the nearest empty classroom. To everyone used to their antics, it wouldn't seem suspicious at all. 

Once they were alone, Cedric began asking questions. 

"What happened last night?"

Harry's eyes widened. "What do you mean? Besides half of Azkaban running loose?"

Cedric glared at him. "I saw you passed out in Dumbledore's office last night. Was Voldemort in your head?" He demanded. 

Of course Harry didn't know Cedric knew. He had been passed out at the time, and Cedric had somehow been brought back to the Hufflepuff dorms before the morning. 

"You were there?" Harry asked. 

"Yes." Cedric said curtly. "Now spill, Harry. I need to know if you're alright." 

Harry scratched the back of his head, avoiding Cedric's gaze. "I was dreaming." He mumbled. 

"About?"

Harry took a deep breath, and then firmly met Cedric's gaze. 

"Voldemort's back. I felt him. He has a new body now." He explained. 

"How?" Cedric cried, not really expecting an answer. 

Harry swallowed and gave Cedric a helpless look. "Everyone's been asking me that... I don't know." 

Cedric began to pace back in forth, dread clenching up his throat. "Does Sirius know yet?" He asked.

Harry nodded. "I talked to him this morning." He pulled a mirror out of his bag. "He gave this to me as his present. I mean, besides promising me the entire Black fortune."

Cedric didn't get it. It was just a mirror; what did it have to do with anything?

Harry saw his confusion. "He has a matching one," he explained. "If I say his name into it, he appears and we can talk."

He walked over to Harry to inspect the mirror. 

"I wonder if we could make more," he murmured. "They would be useful."

"It's probably very complex magic." Harry said. 

Cedric shrugged. "I'm good at Charms, remember? And I have plenty of free time..." He lingered a moment to inspect the mirror. "Anyway. What else was in your dream?" He asked. 

Harry grimaced and rubbed at his scar. 

"Pain," he said. "Lots of pain. And some guy cackling." 

That made sense, Cedric supposed. "Do you know who was cackling?" He asked. 

"No..." Harry murmured.  "Listen, Ced, can we go over this later? I don't want to talk about it anymore."

He didn't blame him, even if he was a little disappointed. "Shall I walk you back to History of Magic?" He suggested. 

"No," Harry replied, sliding onto the floor. "Let's just take a nap for the rest of the period." He yawned. 

Cedric got down next to him. "What do you have next?" He inquired. 

"Defense."

* * *

Ardfyn arrived at Hogwarts cleanshaven and in fine clothes the next morning. The school was in a lovely disarray after hearing the news of last night's events.  

He was more than a little proud to have been part of it. 

But he said nothing about that, because here, he was no longer a werewolf. He was Professor Callum Offrey, charming international teacher and Defense extraordinaire. 

He also had a splitting headache and was extremely exhausted after his transformation, but no one needed to know that. 

His first period class was a rowdy group of third years. He managed to get their attention and lecture them about the importance of defense. 

He didn't really get their attention until he started scaring them about dangers in the night time, and by the end of class, he was fairly certian none of them would be venturing into the Forbidden Forest. Ever. 

And if they did? Well, then, he wouldn't be able to stop the wolf from eating them, would he?

He couldn't wait for his first kill. The best part was that the Death Eaters would be the first to take the blame. After all, everyone was so paranoid about them already after the previous night's prison break. 

His second period class was very, very interesting: the fifth year Slytherins ans Gryffindors. And he didn't know who was more interesring--the famed Harry Potter, or Malfoy's son Draco. 

They were both very interesting. 

Potter was smart. Not book smart, like his pretty friend Granger, but he answered questions well and was engaged during the lecture. Pretty, too. Not to mention powerful, having defeated Voldemort and such a young age.

Mini Malfoy was much like his father. He was disinterested, condescending, and very pleasant to look at. Even if he was detestable. 

Ardfyn decided that should Lucius Malfoy do something to bother him, he knew how he wanted to punish him. He would get to have fun with the boy, as well...

But such thoughts were not useful during lecture. 

"You all read the news this morning," he told them. "You're old enough to understand it--what danger lurks in this world." He paced around thr classroom, surveying each of their faces. 

He stopped in front of Malfoy. 

"You," he hissed. "Do you have any theories for how the Death Eaters escaped?"

Draco Malfoy looked like a deer in the headlights. There was suspicious chatter throughout the room. 

"How am I supposed to know?" The boy snapped. "Ask an Auror, not me."

Ardfyn huffed. "Any of you in here who want to be Aurors?" He asked. 

Potter raised his hand first. Ardfyn strode over to him and met his eye. "You. What do you think?"

Potter lifted his chin. "I don't know, sir. Corruption, perhaps?"

Ardfyn smirked. "Elaborate, Potter." He said, striding to the front of the room. "How might one corrupt a dementor?" He asked. 

Potter turned red, and there were several snickers. 

"I don't know, Professor Offrey," hs admitted. "Perhaps not corruption. Maybe just an extremely powerful Pattonus--" He broke off and shook his head. 

Ardfyn smirked. "Don't second guess yourself, Potter. I like both pf those theories. Five points to Gryffindor."

The Slytherins groaned. 

Ardfyn decided he liked being a teacher, especially after that class. He couldn't wait to teach a class with some Ravenclaws... Then he would really feel at home. 

It was like being at school again, except for he had much more power and instead of teenage hormones he was filled with lust and hatred and murderous desire. 

Not much had changed, he reasoned. 

* * *

The next few weeks were a blur for Cedric. He spent most of his time in class or in the library researching spells to replicate Harry's magic mirrors. When it wasn't that, he was trying to relax with friends or Harry. Quidditch season would be starting soon, too, which would be a nice change for things. 

But the school felt dark, like a cloud was resting overhead. Everyone was anxious, murmuring about Death Eaters and wondering if Krum had been telling the truth. The Ministry was trying its best to cover it up, but people were worried. 

Peoole were retelling the story of the attack at Cedric's house over the summer, asking him for details. Others were whispering about leaving school and staying home with their families. 

But it was all only talk. It hardly was real to anyone but the teachers and the people closest to Harry. Cedric still found himself denying it, comforting himself with the thought that Harry's visions were only nightmares, that his scar hurting was only headaches from not sleeping. 

It was all so easy to forget about, to blow off. Even after the first disappearance occurred. 

It was a third year Ravenclaw girl. She had gone missing a month into school. A few days later, Hagrid found a mangled body near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Dumbledore made a speech addressing it. It wasn't the first time, he said. Everything will be fine, he said. Be extra careful, he said. 

Dark times are coming, he implied. 

Harry kept on having nightmares, and Cedric was unable to sleep, either. Many nights they had snuck out to the Prefect's bathroom to keep each other company. 

It was midway into October, during one of those late night visits, that Harry had an interesting idea to tell him.

"I was thinking about something Professor Offrey said," Harry told him. "We all need to learn how to defend ourselves." 

Cedric lowered himself further into the water. "Isn't that is job to say that? The point of the course?"

"Well, obviously," Harry replied. "But beyond the course. If Voldemort is coming back, we need to know how to duel, to fight." He explained.

"So, a dueling club?" Cedric suggested. 

Harry sighed. "I guess," he muttered. "But with a cause. I want people to know about Voldemort. I want to know who's on our side."

Cedric thought about it for a moment. It half seemed illegal, but it also seemed entirely necessary. 

"Like an army of students," he mused. "I bet there was something like that during the Firs War here."

They both fell silent and contemplated the gravity of what he said. 

"You think there will be a Second War?" Harry asked, looking terrified. 

"I think there will be. And we all know it, judging by the way things have been going." Cedric answered quietly. 

Harry closed his eyes, and ducked himself underwater. He was gone for a long time, and Cedric was starting to get worried. 

Harry popped up at last, looking a little blue and a little scared. 

"Don't do that." Cedric hissed. "Death by bathtub is not what we want for our hero."

Harry shook his head. "There's someone under there." He whispered. 

Cedric chilled at his words. "What do you mean?" He demanded. "It was empty when we filled it up."

"I think it's a ghost." 

"Who, Myrtle?" Cedric demanded, suddenly wanting to get out of the water. 

"Just look. I don't have my glasses on." Harry ordered. 

Cedric sighed, braced himself, and dipped under the water. He immediately screamed when he saw a pale, translucent figure crouched at the bottom of the tub. He crawled out as fast as he could.

"Get out, Harry!" He shouted. "Get out!"

Harry immediately complied. They fumbled with their clothes and forgot to drain the water. They left the bathroom in record speed. 

"I didn't recognize it." Cedric whispered, now under Harry's Invisibility Cloak. "It's not one of the castle ghosts. Do you think it was friendly?"

"It didn't hurt us." Harry whispered back. 

"I'm not going back into that bathroom," Cedric vowed. 

"Then we'll go to the colorful room." Harry replied. 

Then, they had to go separate ways. Cedric, on the way back, jumped at every noise, thoroughly spooked. 

He hoped he never saw that ghost again.  


	15. Chapter 15

The Gryffindor dormitories were virtually empty. Everyone was in the common room for hot chocolate  or studying. It was a good evening; mostly everyone had seemed to forgotten the dread hanging over them. 

Not Harry, though. He was alone in his dorm, by the window. He had several ideas spinning in his head, some more positive than others. Mostly, though, it was about the oncoming war, the missing student, and Voldemort's return. 

He pulled out the mirror. 

"Sirius Black." He whispered. 

It took a minute, but Harry saw a ripple in the mirror. His reflection smoothly transitioned into an older face, with darker eyes, a sharper nose, and scars all in the wrong places. 

"Harry!" Sirius said, his eyes lighting with excitement. "Good news! Very good news!" He was smiling and looking less tense than he had in the past month or so.

A smile broke onto Harry's face, too. "What is it?" He asked, adjusting his position to better see into the mirror.

"I'm a free man!" Sirius exclaimed. "Remus and I just got back from the Ministry! They cleared me." He laughed triumphantly, the lines on his face seeming to disappear as he did so.

"That's brilliant, Sirius!" He congratulated him. "You didn't need me for the trial, then?" He remembered how worked up Remus had been over getting him dress robes for it. 

"No, Harry." Sirius replied, less gleeful now. "I think with the threat of real Death Eaters about, and proof enough of my innocence, they didn't have time to worry about me." His face went dark and the lines returned, probably pulled back to reality. 

Harry cleared his throat, seeing a chance to segway into a different, less appealing topic.

"So, ah," he stuttered nervously, not wanting to overstep his bounds, "I wanted to ask you if the Order knew anything new." It had been his reason for using the mirror; he had thought that maybe some answers would slow his racing thoughts.

Sirius grimaced at that, clearly displeased to talk about it. He answered Harry grudgingly.

"Remus and his buddies reported a new, very aggressive werewolf pack forming," he muttered. "The leader apparently killed Greyback in the prison break."

That was disturbing news. That would mean that they had been involved in the break, then. 

"Are they on Voldemort's side, do you think?" Harry asked, unable to see any other reason for aiding the release of the Death Eaters. 

"Maybe." Sirius replied uneasily. "But they could be rogue, too, which would be just as problematic." The corners of his lips tipped into a frown.

Harry shuddered, imagining all the greusome things a pack of werewolves could do.

"What about the actual Death Eaters?" He inquired, remembering his nightmares. "Do you know anything about them?" He needed something to explain the scar-aching dreams he had been having since returning to school.

"No, Harry," Sirius replied, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. "Listen, I don't want you worrying about this. Go have fun and don't stress about anything for at least thirty minutes." He ordered. 

"It's kind of hard to do with all these nightmares," Harry shot back, tilting the mirror.

Sirius gave him a hard look. "You're not asleep now." He pointed out. "Go have fun."

"Fine," Harry conceded, not actually agreeing, but trying to pacify Sirius. "I'll go see Ron and Hermione. Say hi to Remus for me."

"Will do." Sirius said with a wink, and then he was gone. 

Harry did not go see Ron or Hermione, though later the former did bring him up some hot chocolate.

Harry mumbled a stiff thanks and sipped the hot drink. Ron gave up all attempts at getting Harry to talk and flopped onto his bed in frustration. 

He felt stuck to wondering what the Dark Lord was doing at that moment.

He daren't go to sleep, or his dreams might have told him. He wasn't sure he wanted that yet.

* * *

Lucius' Manor stank of death and filth.

There was plenty of room for his new guests, of course, but there was something pungent about the former prisoners that simply reeked. 

And then, of course, there was Yaxley. He smelled of gore and death even weeks after being away from it. He was a broken man now, too, just as insane as Bellatrix, and just as slavishly devoted to their Lord. 

Their Lord, now in the fresh body of a twenty-four year old man. Yaxley's son, precisely. Lucius didn't know where the actual boy had gone, but the alien spirit of Voldemort was controlling his body now. 

It was unbearable, really, being bossed about by a pompous young man. On the inside, however, he knew there was the twisted, violent soul of the Dark Lord. 

Still, he could be resentful towards him, couldn't he? An innocent-looking youth had stolen his position of power, and he had a right to be angry. He had plans to carry put before Voldemort gad returned, and now they were _ruined_. 

Lucius had not gone unpunished for acting separately of his Lord's wishes, or for dividing the Death Eaters. Even after all he had done, Parkinson was rewarded more than he. And Parkinson had been the one _denying_ his Lord's return. Lucius had been convincing others to prepare for him, but of course that was overlooked.

"Parkinson remained true to the cause," the soft-faced form of Voldemort said. "He would not follow a false leader such as yourself."

Lucius felt rage bubble within him. "I was merely trying to aid your cause, my Lord!"

"Silence!" The boy-lord screeched. He got up from lounging on his throne, and paced around with a spring in his step that Lucius hardly recognized. "I can see into your mind, Lucius. I know your intentions were flawed."

Lucius took a step back and fell to his knee in deference. He bowed his head, and said, "If you could see into my head, you would see nothing but my desire to aid your cause." He repeated though clenched teeth, looking up with his eyes.

The young Lord lifted his heel and placed it on Lucius' head, pressing it to the ground. Lucius's face slammed into cold stone and his body slumped; he felt his nose crack. He began to breathe heavily, fearing for his life. Blood began to flow from his nose, getting into his eyes.

"What an interesting choice of words," the Dark Lord said, lifting his heel and dropping to the floor with limber grace. He set his face close to Lucius'. "Because, you are not lying, I see. No, you do want the cause to prevail... But you want the power to yourself." 

He sprung back to his feet. Lucius would have envied his vigor, but he was busy keeping himself composed while resting his face in a pool of his own blood.

"Get up, Lucius," Voldemort snapped. "You look pathetic."

With a shaky breath, Lucius got up onto all fours. Then, he slowly lifted himself to his feet. His bones creaked with age--when did that start happening?

"I am sorry, my Lord." He whispered hoarsely. "I am only human."

"Yes." His Lord murmured. "You are, aren't you? Which is why you could never replace me." He strode over to Lucius and clutched his chin, digging in his fingernails. "You are a mere mortal."

Lucius felt his skin being torn away. It burned. "My Lord..." He croaked. The blood on the side of his face was drying like a mask, and the rest was dripping down, into the new cuts Voldemort's fingernails were breaking.

He let Lucius go, and licked his fingers clean. "Just a mortal." He whispered with a malicious mortal. "And a vain one at that. You are jealous of my new form, are you not?" He inquired.

Lucius merely dropped his head. It hurt terribly. 

"What would you do if I took away your beauty?" Voldemort asked sourly.

"M-my Lord," Lucius whispered, "I am not beautiful."

He was, of course, and he knew it. But he did not want his Lord thinking so, lest he should choose to take it...

"Oh, but you are!" He exclaimed, circling Lucius once more. "I once envied you, too, Lucius...." He took a step closer, and whispered, "And I never shall again."

Lucius hardly had any time to react before the Dark Lord had produced a knife. 

"No!" Lucius cried, imagining all the things that could be done with it.

"Yes!" Voldemort cried. " _Petrificus totalus!"_

Lucius froze in place. He watched with heavy breathing as the Dark Lord crept up to him. He trailed the tip of the knife down his face, carving light circles. Tears began to mix with the blood.

"I will give you what you wanted," Voldemort panted, "but it will be at a price!" He sharply jerked the knife, and it dug into the cartilege of Lucius' nose. He screamed.

"Hush." His Lord whispered. "I will make you unrecognizably ugly, I will make you into what they fear... And you will be my figurehead. You will be the face of my Dark rebellion... My right hand man. Isn't that what you wanted, Lucius?" He dug the knife in further, and Lucius wished that he could writhe, that he could flee... But he was bound in place. More blood gushed down his face. The pain was unbearable. 

"You will never act out against me again," he hissed, finally cutting Lucius' nose clean off. He screamed again, and his voice cracked. 

The Dark Lord cackled and howled. "See how they like you now, Lucius! They will fear you, bow to you... Isn't that what you wanted?"

He released the body-bind, and Lucius crumpled to the floor in a pool of his own blood. He wailed and he wailed, thinking of nothing but his pain. He was growing dizzy, too... There was so much blood.

His vision flashed in and out. There was no one there to save him--he was alone with Voldemort, who was bending over above him, bringing the knife down again...

He felt nothing. The Dark Lord raised his wand, and the bleeding stopped. He still hurt, though. He tried to sit up. His head felt lighter despite the throbbing. 

He touched his face and vomited when he felt the smooth patch where his nose should have been, saw the nose in a pool of blood on the floor. He tried to move away, and saw something else in another pool.

His hair. Voldemort had cut off his hair. 

"Not so pretty now, are you, Lucius?"

Lucius felt a sob escaping him. His entire body began to shudder and convulse. It was a strange sensation, being the victim  

Except he had brought it upon himself. Still, it did not prevent him from asking, in a strangled cry, "Why?"

"Why?" His Lord asked, grabbing Lucius by the robes and pulling to his feet, making his head spin. He pressed his face close to Lucius' ear, whisperinh harshly, "Because you needed to be put in your place."

He let go, and Lucius fell onto the floor again. The pain from the fall was nothing compared to what he already knew now.

"Because you wanted to lead," he continued with a cruel snicker, "and I am a generous man. You will lead, Lucius, as my puppet, the target of their fear and hatred."

"Isn't that what you wanted for yourself?" Lucius choked, pushing himself up to a sitting position. "Don't you want credit?"

"Oh, no," Lord Voldemort said thoughtfully, his young features forming into a malicious smirk. "Not now, at least. I think I will remain anonymous in this new body... Think of all the damage I could do, out in the world, without a single soul suspecting who I really was?" He let out a deep chuckle.

"Get up, Lucius," he hissed. "We can't have the new face of Dark seeming weak, can we?"

Lucius glared up at the Dark Lord, his cruel master, his mutilator.

"I cannot." He hissed, slowly climbing to his feet. "I cannot do this." He stood now, at full height, but feeling so much smaller than before.

"You should have thought of that before." Voldemort snarled back, hatred burning behind a face that seemed so soft and innocent. He spun around and strode back to his throne.

"Forgive me," Lucius whispered, feeling frozen in place. "I am no leader. Forgive me!"

The Dark Lord settled back in his seat, looking to all the world like a pompous young prince in his father's chair.

"I cannot, Lucius," he replied airily, turning sideways and swinging his legs over the side. "What is done has been done. You denied me twice--once, to avoid going to Azkaban, and twice to control my Death Eaters."

Lucius felt panic returning to him. "It was all fo preserve myself and aid you!" He cried desperately, it was a lie, but he was stumbling to his Lord's feet and falling to his knees. "Please. Undo this."

The young-looking Dark Lord peered down at Lucius like he was a rotting fish, with disgust. 

"What's done has been done, Lucius," he whispered coldly. "Now, let me make the other of your lies a reality."

Lucius trembled. What else? He had already given his face, his identity...

" _Imperio_." 

Lucius felt his worry melt away, felt his limbs melt out of his control, felt the pain melt into a tiny pulsing throb.

 

Of course. How fitting. 

Every word, every thought, against his Lord was now reality. 

And not even to Lucius' own benefit.

* * *

Cedric was alone in the colorful room, waiting for Harry. It's stained glass continued to shift and change and create stories. He watched it blissfully, a wonderful feeling inside of him. Nothing but good had happened to him in that room, and it was continuing to cheer him up even in times of darkness. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" 

Cedric jolted, looking around for the source of the voice. It was nowhere to be found. 

"Harry?" He asked, looking around. He must have been using his cloak. "Harry, this isn't funny!"

"I'm not Harry." The voice said. It danced on his ears and rang in his head. Ethereal. 

A misty figure drifted down from the domed ceiling, into the center of the floor. Cedric yelped and stood up, pressing himself up against the smooth wall. It stared straight at him as it solidified, forming into a humanoid figure.

"It's you!" He cried. "The ghost in the bathroom!" He wanted to run, but he felt frozen in place. 

"It's me." The thing said. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

Cedric blinked. "Sorry?" He asked. 

The ghost nodded gravely, spun in a circle, and lowered itself to the floor. 

"I didn't know what to do," it said. "I felt... Safe near you two. So I stayed. I thought you wouldn't notice me. No one else does."

He stared at it. It seemed friendly enough... After all, no students had been harmed by ghosts at Hogwarts before. 

Unless it had been the thing that had mauled the student. 

He swallowed and composed himself, wishing he had learned in Defense how to fight a ghost. How did one fight a ghost if they weren't supposed to harm people?

"Do you feel safe now?" He asked it carefully. 

The ghost tilted its head, and its bottom half dispersed into mist and reconfigure it into standing position. 

"No," it confessed softly. "It must have been the other one. Could you tell me where he is?"

Cedric felt fear clench in his throat. His hand moved towards his wand.  

"I don't think I can tell you that," he said slowly. "You have to understand, lots of people want him dead."

The ghost shrugged innocently. "I don't. I'm dead myself, so it wouldn't do me much good."

Cedric doubted that. Voldemort _had_ been dead, too, but he still wanted to kill Harry.

"Who are you, then?" Cedric asked it. "Where did you come from?"

It drifted to the opposite side of the room, and released a sound that could only be described as a sigh. 

"I don't know," it told him. "I can't seem to remember. Strange, isn't it?"

And all too convenient, he thought. What a perfect cover to deny being a child murderer. 

"Pity." Cedric replied. "Then I'm afraid I can't help you."

"Can't help who?"

Cedric looked away from the ghost and saw Harry entering the room. 

"The ghost," he said. "He was right--" he realized it was gone. 

"There?" Harry finished for him. He took his hand and urged him to sit down. "You look a little shaken up."

He felt shaken up. He squeezed Harry's hand. 

"It wanted to see you. I don't know why it left." He said. "I don't trust it," he added, lowering his voice. 

Harry, as assuring as ever, rested his head on Cedric's shoulder. He was probably listening to his heart beat--loud, fast, and erratic after the encounter. 

"We'll find it together." Harry promised, squeezing his hand ans smiling assuringly. "The dead can't hurt us."

"Tell that to Voldemort." He scoffed, and remembered the suspicious ghost. He wondered if it were still there, watching...

He felt Harry stiffen against him. Feeling sorry, he asked, "More nightmares?"

Harry had other fears, he supposed; it was his job to comfort him.

"Yeah." He replied, staring off at the soothing figures dancing on the wall. "I tried to talk with Sirius about them this afternoon, but he wouldn't have any of it."

"Well, do you want to talk about it?"

Harry wasted no time in beginning, making Cedric forget all about the ghost.

"I keep seeing stone. Bloody stone, rooms of stone, floors of stone... And he's always laughing. Or someone is laughing. Cackling." He shuddered. "I can't make out any of their faces, either," he added. 

"That doesn't sound good, Harry," Cedric whispered. The blood bothered especially him. But, then again, what else did he expect from Voldemort?

"That's not all," Harry assured him, curling closer to Cedric and squeezing his eyes shut. "I hear snippets of conversation, whispers.... Screaming, too." A shiver traveled through him, and Cedric pulled him closer. 

"What are they saying, Harry?"

"I can't remember," he replied faintly. "But, when I tried to go to sleep tonight, there was so much... Anger. And then there was joy, and satisfaction. And... And..." He trailed off, shifting to rub his temples. 

"Are you remembering something, Harry?" Cedric asked him. He rubbed soothing circles on his back.

"He said something..." Harry whispered. He sat up straight, and turned to look Cedric in the eye.

"What?"

"Something's changed. He's going back into the world," he whispered gravely. He pulled free of Cedric's embrace and got up on his knees. "What does that mean?" 

"Nothing good." Cedric decided.

Nothing good at all.  

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

Draco had hardly been able to sleep. Or eat. Or talk. The year was off to a rough start. 

It all began when Mother started sending strange letters. People were staying, guests, but she couldn't say who. 

It was easy to guess who. He had already read about the Azkaban escape, and knew of his father's alliance. It was clear they were Death Eaters. 

But then it got worse. _Aunt Bella just killed the cat,_ she wrote, or _the second floor sounds like something has died_ , or _the roses have all gone black._

Cryptic, fragmented letters. They didn't sound like it was too bad at home, but it was Mother's tone that concerned him. She was normally more coherent, even when she was trying to keep their letters from being easily read by outsiders. 

It was all relative unease for the first few weeks. But then, she sent a different letter. There was one line that was clear to him, that stood out to him. 

_He is back, Draco dearest, and he has taken over the house._

From there, the letters only got worse and worse. Mother sounded wilder and wilder as she grew more terrified, and Draco began to truly wonder if everything was alright.

 _The floor is red now,_ she wrote the next week. 

 _Whisper, whisper, plots_ came the week after that. 

Then, _I do not think we are their equals any longer._

Her words spun around in Draco's head. He had stopped worrying about his foolish infatuation with Potter or his drama with Pansy's friendship. Not even his grades mattered.

Just Mother.

He begun expecting them every morning. He would sit at the table and stare at his mother's scrawled, scrambled attempts to describe her day. 

And then came the letter that broke him. That changed everything.

_Draco, he is gone. He is not anywhere, I have looked. I hear his voice, see his eyes, he reaches out to touch me but it is not him. Someone else has taken his soul, this hideous body has replaced him. They have taken Lucius._

When he began reading that one, he had hoped that she had been referring to the Dark Lord. But of course, she wasn't, he saw when he was done. 

What had happened to Father?

And that was why Draco could not sleep.

* * *

 

Ardfyn watched both Potter and Malfoy closely. He had long since grown to see them as his gauges of the Dark and Light sides, and as lopsides as that might have been, it told him enough about the state of affairs. 

Malfoy's eyes were constantly red and the skin beneath was dark and sagging. He was jumpy, antsy, paranoid. Over the past months at school, his handwriting had slowly deteriorated from a fine cursive to a scrawled slant. 

Potter looked equally as exhausted, though he was not so jittery. He had begun to drift off during classes, and his essays had become long and rambling. 

Ardfyn knew, then, that it was not going well for either side of the impending war. And never had he felt so grateful to be on neutral sides.

He knew Lucius Malfoy's side had dissolved back into Voldemort's. He also knew that Malfoy hadn't come to speak with him since securing the job for him. And that could only mean, loathe as he was to think it, that Blindeye had been correct, and Malfoy was being punished by the Dark Lord.  

As disturbing as that was, Ardfyn couldn't help but think it boring that there was now only two sides to the war now. It was no longer Potter, Death Eaters, and Neo-Death Eaters. It was only the former two.

Unless Ardfyn played his cards right. He could rally Godwyn and her pack, which he had learned was flourishing wonderfully some fifty miles to the south of him. If he could convince her that they could fight their own war... That would be exciting. 

Godwyn would have her own agenda, of course. Probably something along the lines of overthrow all wizard-kind. Her beliefs were exactly like Greyback's, and yet she had been so keen to kill him. She would probably end up dying in the same fashion as he would.

Clearly, such a cause could never win.

Which was why Ardfyn stayed close to the humans. He just needed to decide which side he wanted to be on...

* * *

"Mr. Potter," Professor Offrey called. "A moment please." 

Harry hung back a moment, giving the new Defense teacher a long look. 

"Yes, sir?" He askes cautiously. Rationally, Harry knew he had no reason to distrust the man, but as of late he had been feeling especially suspicious of everyone. 

"I wanted to congratulate you on your high marks on the last test," Offrey said with a grin that showed pointed teeth and sent chills down Harry's spine. 

"Thanks," Harry murmured. "We've been over werewolves before," he added, remembering Snape's emphasis on werewolves when he was trying to rat out Remus. 

"So I've heard," Offrey murmured. "But don't you think it's of extra importance now, after the break-in?" He inquired casually. 

Harry stiffened. What did Offrey know of the break in? It must have been in the Prophet....

"Perhaps, sir, but I don't teach the course," he said, clutching his book to his chest and willing the professor to let him go. Not only was he uncomfortable, but he was about to go meet with Cedric, Ron, and Hermione about the idea he had been talking with Cedric about in the Prefect's bathroom before the strange ghost had interrupted. 

"Then what might you suggest?" The professor asked him.

"I don't know, sir," he muttered. On the inside, however, he thought it would be valuable to know how to fight against dementors. And it wasn't just because of his immense fear of them. 

"Oh, but don't you?" Offrey inquired, standing from behing his desk. "Surely, you have an opinion, Mr. Potter..."

Harry couldn't help but shudder. He didn't know what it was, but something about this new professor was off. Harry was no longer enjoying his defense classes. Offrey hardly even taught them Defense... As of late, he just talked about the hunting patterns of various creatures. 

"Sir, do you really believe that it was werewolves that caused the break-in?" He inquired suddenly, a thought occuring to him. If it really was werewolves, how would the Prophet had known? 

A sly, unsettling grin formed on Offrey's face. 

"I do," he replied, stepping around the desk and looking down at Harry. "Don't you believe in the media, Potter?" He asked, cocking his head. 

So it had been in the papers. Why hadn't Harry seen it, then? 

"Well, no," he admitted, shifting incomfortably. "After all they've written about me, I don't think I can trust them. Especially not the Prophet."

Though, he did trust Sirius. Which meant that he knew werewolves had caused the escape... But how?

Offrey laughed. "I think they had a very reliable source, Mr. Potter," he whispered, his eyes glinting with something either mischevious or dark. 

Harry scowled in distaste. "Who, then?" He demanded, now more curious than disturbed. "One of the Death Eaters? Why would they tell _the Prophet_ anything?" 

"Potter," Offrey snapped, "use your brain."

Harry took a step back. "Sir?" He inquired. 

"It wasn't in the media," Offrey replied, peering down at him devilishly. "And yet you spoke as if you had reason to believe it was. Who told you, Potter?" He demanded. In a lower tone, he added, "And are they reliable?"

"Of course," Harry replied, feeling bitter about being tricked. "Who told _you_?" He demamded.

Offrey only smirked. 

"I have plenty of reliable sources, believe me." He took a long, slow glance around the room. "And they aren't at all like your sources."

Harry swallowed. That sounded menacing. 

"What do you want, sir?"

"Just keep an eye out, Potter. The tables are turning, and you never know you can trust anymore." He leaned in close, his breath hot and chilling all at once. 

"The Dark Lord is back, as I'm sure you know. What are you going to do about it, Harry Potter? He's going to strike soon, and you better start planning if you want to strike first."

Then, he shoved past Harry and walked away, leaving him clammy and terrified and wondering why, oh why would anyone trust the fate of the wizarding world to a just a boy?  


End file.
